


Habromania

by jonunu



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Basically everything that drives one crazy, Chill tf out it has a happy ending, Comfort/Angst, Coming Out, Depression, F/F, Family Issues, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Underage Drinking and Smoking, Mentions of mental and physical abuse, Mild Smut, Minor Character Death, Moving, PS: I have a thing for Minho calling Newt Baby, Sexual Confusion, Suicidal Thoughts, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, break ups, implied suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonunu/pseuds/jonunu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HABROMANIA<br/>[ha-bro-ma-nia] ;<br/>(n.) delusions of happiness.</p><p> </p><p>Minho has always been a fast runner, but life isn't a track field and time doesn't stop after you've passed the finish line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Habromania

**Author's Note:**

> So, the last story was a flop. I deleted it even though it made my heart hurt a little. 
> 
> I hope you like this one.
> 
> Based on the song 'Airplane' by iKON, because I'm kinda lost in the KPop world and it fits the fic and I had to make it fit the theme of the Minewt Day. I hope you actually read this because this is just way too long and if you do I hope the pronouns of the lyrics don't bother you. 
> 
> [The birthday dates of both Minho and Newt are inspired by @mintnewt! She made a post about it on her tumblr (the @ is the same, go look her up if you don't already know her!) and I thought it fit so well that I had to use it. I hope it is okay!]
> 
> Thank you for you attention. Enjoy~

 

 

**H A B R O M A N I A**

* * *

 

A I R P L A N E  -  I K O N

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **잠깐** **멈춰봐**  
>  _jamggan meomchweobwa_  
>  _Stop for a moment_
> 
> **이대로** **가면**  
>  _idaero gamyeon_  
>  _if we keep this up_
> 
> **우린 다신 못 봐 비행기 떠나면**  
>  _urin dasin mot bwa bihaenggi ddeonamyeon_  
>  _We won’t ever see each other again after the airplane leaves_

 

It is Monday, the 30th of August, and a total of 22 °C, exactly 71.6 °F, outside in Georgia, United States of America. A small boy, with scraped knees and his wide smile showing two front teeth missing, makes his way through the already empty hallways of the humble primary school. His orange backpack bounces up and down wildly while he paces past all lockers and the teachers shouting after him to ‚better hurry‘.

His already worn out sport shoes create a soft squeak as he stumbles around a corner and eventually comes to an abrupt halt in front of the blue door of a classroom. Big, white paper-letters sticking to its surface present proudly the name of the teacher – Mrs. Paige.

He knocks hastily.

When the door opens, the young boy can see many curious pairs of eyes peak at him along with the ones of his teacher, who glances at him expectantly.

"Minho, you’re ten minutes too late. I thought we talked about this.“

He lowers his head in return. "‘M sorry, Madame.“

But she smiles, huffing out a breath that makes a single streak of her blonde hair whirl softly. „Just get in here," she hums softly, "it’s the first day of school, so I think this can stay a secret between the both of us.“

"Thank you, Madame! I promise I’ll be early the next time!“ Minho’s voice is bold for an eight year old and its energy makes a few students jump on their chairs.

He rushes to his old seat immediately, happy to see that nobody had occupied it yet, and places his backpack carefully at the foot of his table.

Mrs. Paige folds her hands then, standing in front of the blackboard on which she has already written her name for the newcomers. Minho eagerly lets his gaze wander through the heads of students to see if he spots someone unknown. He notices a short girl with fiery red hair and freckles covering seemingly each inch of her skin and only two tables away from her there sits a boy with blond honey hair and his arms crossed.

However, the teacher doesn’t introduce them, so Minho must’ve come too late then (again).

 

 

Within the next few days Minho learns their names, anyway. The girl’s name is Loreen and the boy’s name is Isaac.

 

 

Three weeks of school and Minho discovers that Isaac lives next to his best friend, Thomas – so exactly two blocks away from Minho. Thomas also tells him that he came from England and Minho gapes in astonishment.

That evening Minho asks his mother where England is. She tells him it is across the Atlantic Ocean, thousands of miles away, even on another continent, and Minho’s eyes widen in excitement.

When Minho is sure his mother had turned off the lights at night, he scrambles to his feet, warm sheets crumbled to a lump at the bottom of his bed, and hurries down the stairs to their basement. The darkness is a little bit frightning, but his father had told him once, that a brave heart scares away every bit of horror – So Minho grips the railing of the staircase a little bit tighter and let’s the blackness swallow him whole. Hastily he rummages through the old junk, which was already clothed in coats of dust, and pulls a small plastic globe out of a carton. He is fast to run the stairs back to his room, to lock the door behind him – just in case, his parents have noticed his innocent, little excursion, of course – and sit with his legs crossed on the carpet. The beaming, red numbers of his alarm clock change and change while Minho traces the outlines of the printed shapes of land and oceans on the globe’s surface and hopes for his flashlight not to die.

 

 

By the end of September Minho had noticed a few things already about the blond boy. Firstly; He always sits in the front of their school bus. Secondly; He is tired quite a lot. Minho considers giving him a pillow for his birthday one day – maybe. Thirdly; He speaks with an accent and sometimes it seems to lead to a few problems with the teachers. Minho heard them trying to lecture him about pronunciation and even grammatic. And fourthly; He cries when he thinks nobody sees. It’s mostly in the first lunch break.

 

 

It’s a little bit surprising when one day – no, exactly October third – Minho finds his blond classmate crying, knees tugged under his chin as he is sitting on his porch. For a moment Minho just stands there, football in both of his hands, asking himself over and over if he should talk to the silently wimmering boy or should just walk the last few meters until he reaches Thomas‘ front door.

His fingers tighten around the football. "Why are you crying?" he asks, loudly.

Minho sees the blond boy jump slightly, hands hurriedly wiping the tears. Isaac needs a moment, but when Minho slowly strides forward and appears behind the maple tree that divides the white fence in two, there is a face matching the familiar voice.

"I’m not crying.“ Minho stops at the other’s words, now standing only a few meters away from the porch Isaac is sitting on.

He spins the ball inside his hands mindlessly. "I saw you, though," he murmures.

"No, you didn’t.“

"Your eyes are still red!“

On the fourth birthday of Minho’s small cousin, he had made her cry. His mother had scolded him for being too rough and rash. She ended up forcing her son to apologize, watching him with expecting eyes as he hugged his cousin. Minho had only been six back then, but he was quick to notice that hugs could help and softness was something one should treasure well.

So when Isaac starts crying anew, Minho sits beside him on the wooden stairs, puts his ball next to him and hugs the blond.

Minho says, „I’m sorry." And Isaac doesn’t say anything, but just burries his head in the crook of Minho’s neck.

That moment Minho wonders where the boy’s parents are at, but he doesn’t ask further. He waits until Isaac’s sobs have died down and then he takes him with to Thomas‘ place. They play football – Minho giggles when Isaac calls it 'soccer‘ – in Thomas‘ garden and even though they destroy a few flowers, they have a lot of fun.

By evening Isaac tells both boys to call him 'Newt‘ and Minho punches Thomas‘ arm when he calls the blond 'lizard boy‘ instead. Newt, however, laughs at that and Minho decides he likes Newt’s laugh. So when he brings him home – it takes them a minute to reach the house on the other side, though – he hugs him another time that day, making Newt smile and Minho decides Newt’s smile isn’t all that bad either.

Minho is quick to tell his parents all about Newt. It’s about three weeks filled with "Newt’s favourite colour is yellow" and "Newt said he liked smarties more than gummibears" and "Newt’s favourite movie is Pinocchio" and, and, and. But the boy’s mother only smiles, while his father only listens.

 

 

Just when December finally starts and the icy blow of wind makes Newt’s cheeks go pink, Minho notices the blond had stopped crying. Newt only told him once, that he had missed his friends in England and therefore felt alone most of the time, but Minho shook his head at that. Minho is now Newt’s new friend – and Thomas, too. Newt doesn’t need to be sad when Minho is there.

 

 

It turns to an unspoken rule over the time. Minho is attached to Newt’s hip and so is Newt to Minho’s.

 

 

When in March Minho turns finally 9, proudly announcing it in the hallways of his school, he makes sure to invite Newt. It is the first time Newt stays longer than just a few hours and while the three other guests of Minho have to sleep on the room’s carpet in their sleeping bags, Newt gets a special place next to Minho inside his bed under fuzzy covers printed with stars and rockets.

 

 

On Spring break both boys spend most of their days together – sometimes Thomas joins them, as well – and when school starts again they do their homework in one another’s rooms.

 

 

Minho even wraps up a pillow as a present for Newt’s birthday in July. His mother isn’t sure, if it’s the right present, but Newt’s beaming smile when he tears apart the yellow paper makes everyone forget about those worries.

 

 

Time passes and seasons change, leaves fall and flowers die until buds sprout again and white changes to green. Minho and Newt become best friends – Thomas is jealous first, but he forgets about that when all three of them are able to spend time together – and everything seems to go easy, like waves hitting the shore just to be sucked into the deep once again.

 

 

The first problem, however, occurs when Newt is barely 11 – it’s exactly a week after his birthday. His parents start fighting. They fight a lot and after trying to hide their heated discussions at night, when they think their son is already asleep, it gets loud at random times of the day. Sometimes they yell at eachother in the morning, sometimes they do it while having dinner. It always starts with muttered words and ends with screaming at the top of their lungs. Newt is scared most of the time, escaping when both of his parents are too caught up in the moment again to actually pay attention to him. He sits in Minho’s bed at night and sometimes he can’t hold back the tears running down his flushed cheeks – but Minho wipes them away every single time.

 

 

Newt doesn’t quite understand any of his parents‘ arguments. That’s why he blames himself when they get divorced in August, another set of yelling and glasses crashing following.

 

 

"Honey, please don’t cry. One day you will understand," his mother says, gentle eyes observing the tear stained face of her crying son.

Newt just sits at their kitchen table, blond hair a mess, small nose red and sweaty hands folded inside his lap.

"Mommy and I just need a break, you understand that?“

 

 

It’s not fair when they ask him with whom he wants to stay.

 

 

Newt decides to stay with his father, anyway, Minho holding him the night his mother travels back to England with a broken heart and a packed suitcase.

 

 

When Newt turns 12 he realizes that the 'break‘ his parents had talked about, will carry on forever – no matter how much he begs for them to just love eachother again. His mother comes to visit him sometimes – like on his birthday –, but it doesn’t give him the feeling of completeness he longs for.

 

 

"My aunt used to be very sad. Mom told me it was because unkle Ren had left her for someone else, but I think that was just one more thing adding to her sadness. She had been sad a lot of days before.“ Minho’s warm breath leaves a white trail in the dark of the winter night of November, the few lights hanging above the small wooden table of the terrace painting his face in beautiful lilac colours.

"So she was depressed?“ Newt’s questions burns inside his throat, just like the small bits of raspberry liquor they’ve stolen from Minho’s father, and he buries his red nose a little bit deeper in the warmth of his scarf.

Minho then just nods. They both might only be 14 years old, but both of them notice the small glimpses of life that happen and rush behind the secure bubbles their parents try to keep them in.

 

 

When Newt is 15 he knows his mother had cheated on her father with someone else back then. She had cheated on him even before they moved to America – her so called 'business trips‘ weren’t located in England just by coincidence.

When Newt is 15 he knows the reasons for their break up and knows also that his father is depressed.

 

 

School challenges the blond everyday and his father’s mental state adds some issues, but after some time it’s not just that.

When Newt is barely 16 he questions his sexuality. It messes with his mind and makes him feel odd, not fitting in with everyone else. While Minho discovers his interest for girls – Newt is certain he lacks of that – Newt finds himself eyeing the boys of his school a little bit more… thoroughly.

Nobody knows expect Brenda, a girl from Newt’s literature class, who learned to know him over the years like the back of her hand.

He tries to swallow the weird feelings like a mixture of sleeping pills, but from day to day he becomes more sure of his preferences. He feels like his father’s psychic health is rubbing off on him.

 

 

With every month passing Minho drifts a little bit further from Newt, but the blond tells himself it’s just a phase. Minho spends a lot of time with different girls, no matter what colour their hair or what size their boobs. He experiences a lot, having his first kiss, his first time, first blow job – whatever a teenager his age desires to experience. Parties don’t really allow him to meet up with Newt either – but that’s limited, right? Everything is.

 

 

Just like Newt’s first kiss. It happens in only a matter of seconds, the scent of freshly mowed grass in the air as they stand hidden behind the bleachers of the school’s football field, and Newt feels like spring kicks his lungs. He shares it with a guy named Nick – strong built, green eyes, cheeky grin and football player. Newt isn’t in love, but he’s glad someone decided to kiss him in the first place.

 

 

Newt likes the taste of cigarettes, he finds out when he turns 17. Winston sometimes smokes with him when both of them don’t feel the need to sit in their economy class.

 

 

Newt also likes Thomas. It’s not love, but it’s close to it and it feels good when they kiss – even though they keep it a secret. It starts in March, 3 AM in the morning, under the cherry tree of Minho’s garden when everybody else is too busy to celebrate Minho’s birthday. Thomas is Newt’s big first time – he is not his first kiss, but his first relationship and intimate experience. He fills up the empty hole Minho had left and next to him Brenda and also Winston all form Newt’s new anchor. They see a lot of sides of him and even though he still manages to hide a few dark spots, he wishes for Minho to reach out just once – to just know about him and the dark whispers inside his head.

 

 

Minho doesn’t realize he damages the poor soul with every mindlessly thrown "Hey, man, cheer up a little bit.“

 

And two months into Newt’s and Thomas‘ relationship it goes completely downhill. Everything Newt tried to hold close is ripped from him when his father catches them. He wasn’t supposed to be there until noon, but then he stands inside Newt’s doorframe and the blond doesn’t even find the time to put on a shirt, because his father is already yelling and yanking Thomas by his arm and out of the room.

"Sir–“

"Get out of here!“

Newt is fast to follow them down the stairs, catching a glimpse of Thomas‘ patient face in the corridor.

"Dad, please–“ when he puts his hand on his father’s right shoulder, he didn’t expect the storm that would follow.

He faces the other side in a matter of seconds, cheek tinging with pain as the hard slap echos uncomfortably loud. Thomas' face falls.

§I didn’t raise a – faggot,“ his father spits, "leave, Isaac.“

Newt sucks in the oxgyen, but it infurls inside his lungs like poison as the tears sting inside his eyes. "Fine," he hisses, "I hope you burn in hell all alone. Maybe that’s why mom left you in the first place, you narcissistic asshole.“

His father raises his hand again and Newt is almost ready to embrace the pain, when he suddenly lowers his hand again. The fire inside his eyes never dies.

So Newt leaves him behind, taking Thomas by the hand and lets his father burn along with his anger.

That night Thomas lends Newt a shirt of his and his apologies only seem to die down when both of them finally fall asleep in a cocoon of cold sheets and quiet sniffles.

 

 

Thomas isn’t surprised when Newt leaves the day before Spring break. However, Brenda and Winston are and even Minho finds himself perplexed at the airport. It happened all way too fast  and from one day to the other Newt told them he would leave to live with his mother in England. He also said it would be temporary when Minho asked him one evening, that it was only because of his grandmother’s health and it would probably pass anyway. But when they stand at the airport Minho feels left out all at once – the way his friends hug the blond seems so strange to the way he does. It doesn’t feel like he’d come back.

He holds him firmly, claps his back and when he sees the tears in the corner of Newt’s eyes, he tells him not to cry. It is temporary anyway, right? Everything is.

But Thomas holds Newt differently. His hands are on Newt’s waist and he is whispering quietly to the other – Minho narrows his eyes at them.

Even though he doesn’t hear Thomas apologizing again. He doesn’t hear Newt telling him it is fine, that they are good and their time had been golden. He also misses the small kiss Thomas presses gently to the blond’s jaw.

Minho doesn’t know he had already missed much more than that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **난** **잘** **지낼게** **넌** **꼭** **잘** **지내야** **돼**  
>  _nan jal jinaelge neon ggok jal jinaeya dwae  
>  I'll be good, you be good too_

 

For almost three weeks Minho doesn’t hear anything from Newt, but he tells himself it’s probably just the time zones. He tries desperately to drown out the small voice at the back of his head nagging him and telling him he doesn’t deserve Newt’s attention anyway. How long has it been anyway since they've last talked - really talked?

 

That’s until the screen of his phone lights up at 8 PM on a Friday evening. Minho is sitting in his backyard, moist leaves of grass caressing his ankles, with Brenda, Hariett and Frypan when his mouth goes dry and his heart starts to race. He shouldn’t feel that way, he knows. Newt is – or was? He doesn’t hope it had changed – his best friend and best friends should feel comfortable talking to eachother.

He stares at the lit screen, the small, silly picture of Newt popping up, until–

"Don’t you want to pick up?“ Brenda looks at him, expectantly, taking another swig from her beer.

Minho only nods, no words leaving his throat, and–

"Minho?“ It’s Newt – of course, it is – and Minho feels strange, pleasant waves wash over him, settling inside his stomach.

"Newt.“ It’s all he can say, really, and he doesn’t miss the light exhale on the other end of the line.

"I hope it’s okay when I call you?“  Newt asks then and Minho wants to nod furiously, but then he remembers Newt can’t even see him – sadly.

He clears his throat once. "Sure.“ It comes out casually, typical.

"Just felt right.“

There is a pause then. "How are you?“ Minho asks, keeping his voice low. Hariett and Frypan start talking again, but Brenda is quiet. Minho pays them no mind.

"I’m good," he hears theother chuckle, "it feels good to be back in England, even though my mom’s lover is worse than the bloody plague.“

Minho chuckles at that. "So bad?“

"You wouldn’t believe it! I even remember that arsehole! He used to cut our lawn.“ A louder laugh escapes Minho’s throat. "Sometimes I have to try so hard not to throw up on him when he pretends to be my dad.“

"At least your real dad doesn’t have to live in fear of losing you then.“

A strangled noise follows, but Newt answers with a "Right“ straight away. Minho feels like missing something all over again.

"But guess what!“ Newt shouts, mood turning excited – fast, just like the flutter of a butterfly.

Minho smiles immediately. "What?“

"You won’t believe who I met! I met Teresa!" he exclaims joyfully, "She’s – she’s in my biology class and it’s all so crazy, Minho.“

Minho quriks a brow. "Teresa? Your old–“

"My old best friend, yeah.“ He thinks he can almost see the wide smile on the blond’s face, pearly white teeth and cherry lips.

"Don’t you dare replace me, shank.“ He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to say so, because Newt is miles away and recently he hadn’t even seen it coming, he hadn’t known Newt would slip so easily through his fingers.

"I wouldn't even think about it.“

 

 

Minho treasures every bit of conversation he gets with Newt. It feels strange to think about him so much – it’s true when Thomas tells him that people only know what they have missed when it is already gone.

 

 

June brings only a few phone calls, because both of them are busy and sometimes the time zones butt in. But when Minho finally hears Newt’s voice from the other line, he stays awake just in case of not missing out of even a tiny aspect of the other’s life. On weekends they even manage to video call eachother over Skype, but Minho’s heart aches everytime the blond shock of hair pops up on his screen. He tells himself that it’s restricted though, right? Everything is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **라고** **말하고** **가면**  
>  _rago malhago gamyeon  
>  If you say that and leave_
> 
> **잘** **지낼** **수** **있겠냐** **너라면**  
>  _jal jinael su itgetnya neoramyeon  
>  you think I'll be fine?_

 

On Newt’s birthday Minho calls him, not being able to give him anything else, but Newt says it’s just fine and Minho believes him.

 

It’s the start of their last year of school when Minho realizes something has gone horribly wrong and nothing is 'just fine‘. He catches it by accident one day in September. Thomas is over and somehow, beside all the piles of papers and history books, they end up talking about Newt. Minho asks the other if he knows anything about Newt’s grandmother’s current condition and the flash of a bewildered expression on the brunet’s face says it all. It lingers for only the part of a second, before Thomas burries his nose a little bit deeper in the thick history book and responds with a casual "No“. But Minho knows he’s lying and in only a matter of minutes he makes Thomas spill the beans.

Minho realizes a lot that day. Not only that he had fucked up, but also believed that Newt had fucked up majorly.

 

That his anger brings out the ignorant side of him is something he hadn’t realized that day, but it comes eventually anyway. He notices when he starts dismissing Newt’s calls, ignoring the ringing and even putting his phone on mute in order of missing the alarming sound.

And even though Minho let’s the rage control his mind for about two months, his heart breaks a little bit when he goes weeks without any new missed calls. He checks on Newt over Facebook, looking up the blond’s page every now and then – just to make sure he is still okay, of course.

 

But when on the 1st of December a picture pops up on Newt’s page, Minho nearly shouts at the screen. It’s 11 PM and the windows‘ glass is adorned with an icy frost pattern, but Minho’s body is set on fire. It’s a picture of Newt with this guy called Ben and this guy just keeps appearing in so many pictures. Minho hates it so much, because Newt is doing so well while he crumbles under the distance of a few thousand miles between them.

That’s why he calls him. That’s why the fire inside his mind starts rearing instead of cooling down. That’s why, right?

 

"Minho? ’S four in the morning. Are you alright? Everything ‘kay? Tried to call you for an eternity–“ Newt’s voice is drunk of sleep when he finally picks up after the eighth ring.

„No, nothing’s okay," Minho hisses, "Why have you been lying to me all the time, Newt? Man, I thought we were best friends.“ His voice ends in a whisper, but he swallows the bit of wretchedness, which gurgles in the pit of his stomach.

And he hears Newt hum sleepily through the phone, seemingly with his mind somewhere else.  „What?" he asks, "Minho, what‘re you talkin‘ ‘bout?“ he asks and it sounds so convincing, Minho almost believes him. "You do know how late it is here in England, yeah? We don’t share the same time zone anymore so–“

Minho interrups him harshly then. "I know very damn well that you‘re across the fucking globe and thousands of miles away from me! But when the fuck were you planning on telling me about your sweet little relationship with Thomas or your tendencies in general? Or maybe just the real reason why the fuck you left?“

There is a pause then – an agonizing period filled with silence, which seems to curl itself around Minho’s throat, pulling, tightening – until–

"Are you being serious right now?“ Newt sounds more awake now, every trace of mumbling gone.

"Do you think I‘m joking?“ Minho asks in return and then he hears the other laugh – it’s cold and definitely not intending on telling him about happiness.

"You, Minho, just turned into a joke yourself.“ It’s the moment words shake the high walls of Minho’s heart, but his mind is still set in flames and the smoke dazes his senses. "I am certain, it is my personal decision if I tell you about my sexual orientation or not. And let me tell you: you have no fucking clue how hard this is. You don‘t have to come out the bloody closet because you‘re okay with all the girls you‘re dating and dry humping at parties. You have no clue and you‘ll never have and I‘m so fucking sorry I was scared of you being disgusted of me if I would‘ve told you what was going on inside of me and being ashamed of my own father kicking me out of his house, just because he doesn't consider a 'faggot‘ as his son. But let‘s be real, that‘s just fucking pathetic, isn‘t it, Minho? It‘s fucking pathetic that I haven‘t told you anything at all, right? I‘m sorry, but I don‘t think you have any right to yell at me. It wasn‘t me who was too distracted by boobs to just hang out with his fucking best friend for once.“

"So you were distracted by dicks? You‘re probably dating this fucking Ben guy from your school already, huh?“

Seconds of silence tick by another time and then Minho hears Newt exhale slowly. "You‘re ridiculous. Thank you for this nice chat, but you’re wasting my time. Good night, Minho.“

When the call ends Minho sweeps a few books from the surface of his desk with a low growl. His chest heaves with every breath and the fury boiling inside his veins keeps him up that night.

 

 

It takes Minho three days until he actually tries to find a solution for his outbreak. He also comes to realize that Newt has more of a right to hate him than Minho will ever have in return.

He starts to regret, trying to reach Newt again – feeding the blond’s mailbox with excuses from time to time.

 

 

By the end of December Minho tells Thomas about his mistake and he is yet unaware of the reason of the event.

 

"Jealousy perhaps?“

Minho looks at Thomas in confusion.

 

 

Again only the few posts popping up on Newt’s facebook page reassure him that the other is still alive and in good condition. Until there is an incoming call on the night of the penultimate day of December, twenty minutes before the clock strikes twelve. Minho‘s palms begin to sweat when he recognizes the small contact picture of a certain beaming blond illuminating the darkness of his room and he swipes his thumb carefully over the screen, accepting the call.

He is ready to shout a thousand apologies into the phone when suddenly a quiet sob tears the tension apart and nudges at Minho’s heart.

In only a matter of seconds his panic mode is on. "Newt? What is wrong? Are you okay?“ he asks, not even caring about the volume of his voice at a time like this on a Thursday.

"Minho–“ It is strangled and reminds Minho of the few panick attacks the blond had had in middle school.

He shushes the other softly, "it‘s okay. I‘m here. You‘re okay. Can you tell me what is wrong?“

"I can‘t breathe.“

Minho sits up inside his bed. His fingers ache. "It’s alright. Your body is working just fine and there is enough oxygen, okay? Take slow breaths, alright Newt? Can you do that for me?“

"It’s– it‘s very h-hard,“ Newt weakly chokes out and Minho feels like his lungs are giving up as well.

"You can do it, I know you can. We did this before, remember? Just focus on my voice a little bit, yeah?“

"Okay, yeah.“

That’s the moment Minho sits inside his bed seven minutes past midnight with his legs crossed and his bare chest exposed to the cold of the night. He is talking about Thomas‘ and his stay at Winston’s aunt’s house a few weeks ago and even though his voice shakes the slightest, he tries his hardest to keep it firm in case of calming the blond at the other end of the line.

He doesn’t even notice he slips from one topic to another, but it doesn’t really matter anyway, because Newt is breathing normally again and Minho is embraced with silence.

"Newt?“

"Yeah?“

"What happened?“

Minho thinks, 'maybe this time he will actually tell me what’s up‘, but it’s silent all over again.

"I worry, you know," he admits lowly, "every shucking day I worry about you, but I know it‘s my fault. I should‘ve been there for you and– and I‘m not disgusted of you – I could never. I know what I said to you wasn‘t okay, yes I know that, but I was so angry I didn‘t even listen to what you had to say and I‘m so sorry, Newt, I miss you so much I–“

His eyebrows shoot up when he is being interrupted suddenly. "My mom‘s boyfriend," Newt says, "his spoiled rat of a son keeps beating me up. I swear, Minho, I–“

Minho has to take in those information, before he can form a logical answer – it’s like he needs to chew Newt’s response to form something new out of it, but what rolls of his tongue is rubbish, just like it is everytime. "This fucker will spit blood when I see him.“

"Don‘t say that. I am pretty good at defending myself, you know. I even broke his nose once and even though his dad grounded me, I was pretty damn proud of myself.“

Minho can’t help but chuckle then.

"No, really! After that day everybody kept a nice distance to me.“

"That‘s how I know you.“

"But–,“ Newt sounds unsure, "Minho?“

He stares out of his window, observing the way the light of the stree lamps makes the falling snowflakes sparkle and shine. "Yes?“

"I am so close to run away from this place.“

And he almost feels pathetic when he says, „Just come to me then.“ And the actual desire behind his words makes him cringe.

"I have nowhere to stay, Minho, don‘t be silly.“

"I‘m not. I mean this," he replies sincerely, "you can live with me. I‘d give you everything you need.“ And it sounds like he is confessing to his best friend, but Minho couldn’t care less.

Newt sighs. It sounds drained. "This wouldn‘t work, I know it. Nothing we do seems to.“

"Why do you say that?“ Minho asks, voice rough and forehead in crinkles.

"Minho, we haven‘t seen eachother for almost a year. We talked in total thirty times and last time we yelled at eachother like maniacs.“

"I am sorry about that, Newt, I truly am, but believe me when I say, that this could work. We could make anything work together!" he exlaims loudly, "Remember the plan we had in eighth grade to pull a prank on Mrs. Wright? Or that time you had to apply to a part time job and you thought it wouldn’t work out, because your dad didn‘t want you to, so I called the boss pretending I was your dad instead?“

Minho believes, but Newt stopped some time ago. "Min,“ he says softly, and Minho can already feel his next words tugging at his heart, wrenching it painfully. "We aren‘t in Middle School anymore. I am already working my ass off on weekends and in most of the time after school so I can leave this hell hole. There is honestly no place for dreaming here. I am sorry.“

And Newt isn’t the only one, who is sorry – Minho is as well, even though he doesn’t bring it up another time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **애써** **태연한** **척하지마** **너** **눈물** **고였어**  
>  _aesseo taeyeonhan cheokhajima neo nunmul goyeosseo  
>  Stop pretending to be calm, there are tears in your eyes_
> 
> **세상** **잃어버린듯한** **슬픔이** **보였어**  
>  _sesang irheobeorindeuthan seulpeumi boyeosseo  
>  I see a sadness like you've lost the world_

 

Minho finds himself checking on Newt every now and then, giving him late night calls when he knows Newt’s shift at the small coffee shop must’ve already ended. He tries so hard – tries so hard to make sure the other is doing fine, tries so hard to cheer him up when his boss has once again scolded him for no valid reason or when his stepbrother, Bryan, has come to the conclusion a kick in the guts would be a whole lot of fun. Minho tries so hard, Newt knows.

And it just happens – secrets slip from his cherry lips and he tells Minho what is happening, what keeps his mind occupied and Minho is there and he listens and he tries to fix – he tries.

 

 

"I haven‘t told my mom about my sexuality yet. I‘m afraid she will throw me out like my dad did, but Bryan saw me with Ben and he uses his nasty conclusions against me. It’s kinda hopeless,“ Newt tells him one day in January, the wind outside harsh as Minho sits with a steaming cup of coffee in the kitchen, papers for his exams spread across the wooden surface. The phone is put on speaker and nobody is there anyways so Newt’s voice is all that can be heard in the empty house.

"I‘m sure you can break his ugly nose another time. That guy won‘t do you any harm – he’s probably way too much of a pussy, anyway. But if he intends to I swear I‘m going to take the next flight to England.“

He hears a soft chuckle ringing and smiles. "You‘re unbelievable, Min.“

"But I guess I actually just really want to visit you. I miss you, brat.“

"I miss you too, idiot.“ Minho’s heart thumps a little bit harder just then. „I really want you to meet Ben and the others as well. You‘d like them! Well, and if you wouldn‘t be so bloody sassy all the time I‘m sure they would like you, too.“

For a moment Minho stays silent before asking, „What was that?“ But Newt is already bubbling with loud laughter and Minho’s smile grows even more.

Only when it gets quiet again he dares asking, „But Ben and you, huh?“ And it’s not even a direct question, but Newt understands him immediately.

"Yeah," he breathes in return. Minho’s mouth twists comically.

"It seems to be something serious.“

Newt clears his throat. "I like to believe it‘s more serious than my relationship with Tommy though.“

And Minho lets his eyes travel through the room, searching for something to calm him down, but there is nothing so he fixes his gaze on the empty white sheets in front him instead. "Good to hear – I mean great! I‘m happy you have someone, like, you know what I mean – it’s good.“

Newt’s chuckle is soft, nearly inaudible. "What about you?“ he asks then and Minho’s back tenses slightly.

"Huh? Me?“ His eyes go in circles again. "Relationships don’t really seem to work out for me. I tried it a few times, but, you know…“ He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t really need to.

"Really?" the blond asks and Minho hates how sincerely interested he sounds, "How come?“

"I don’t," he clears his throat, "I don‘t know. I guess I‘m too distracted else way or just too occupied by all this fucking school work.“

The laugh that follows is something he doesn’t expect.

"What‘s so funny? Why are you laughing, slinthead?“

Newt inhales deeply at the other end of the line, trying to swallow the following giggles. "It‘s just," he wheezes, "you, Minho, being too 'occupied by school work‘ to actually do a move on some girl? This has to be a joke.“

Now Minho feels attacked. "What? Why? I don‘t get it. What‘s so funny about that?“

"You literally don‘t stop banging girls just because of work. You can‘t tell me that.“  
  
"This was about relationships, not short flings.“

"So you did have flings?“

"Yes!“ he exclaims, but– "Well, no. Maybe two?“

"Oh my god.“ And right then and there Newt starts laughing again, this time louder and with audible enjoyment.

"Don‘t laugh at me! I have grown a lot since you have left!“

"Of course,“ Newt replies, soundind painfully sarcastic. Minho narrows his eyes.

"This is the truth!" he shouts, "This year without you made me change in many ways.“

"In what kind of ways?“

"For example...“ For a moment Minho thinks about his answer, seeking for the right and most convincing words to say. "I don‘t drink the milk out of the bottle anymore and I fold my fresh clothes before I put them in my wardrobe.“

Newt snorts. "I am impressed.“

"Why, thank you.“

"Why haven‘t you while I was still around?“

"I don‘t know," he admits casually, "I guess it was just pretty amusing when you got all mad about it, but when you‘re not here I‘m actually bothered about it myself.“

The blond gasps from the end of the line. "I didn‘t get mad.“

A grin forms on Minho's lips. "Yes, you did," he murmures, "but it was cute so don‘t worry.“

Then it is quiet. Eventually Minho nips from his coffee, the bitter liquid leaving a pleasant, warm trail inside his throat. And then Newt asks, „Did you just say I am cute?“

And Minho doesn’t even hesitate. "You _were_ cute," he corrects, "you‘re probably ugly by now.“

"Well, you probably have a mustache.“

"Do you have anything against mustaches?“

The other gasps, a bundle of giggles following. "Oh my god, do you actually have a mustache?“

"I don‘t!“ Minho reassures him quickly, "Unless you think it‘s attractive, of course.“

The giggles from the other end of the line never seem to die. "You‘d be ugly either way, but you should probably worry more about the girls‘ opinions.“

"I am hurt.“

"You know I love you.“

"You do?“

"Of course.“ Minho nearly smiles, but then Newt carries on, "I love the you you are when you‘re not salty for once.“

He huffs. "Stop hurting my feelings, you monster.“

It’s so silly when Newt starts giggling again and doing kissing sounds, but Minho thinks it’s even more silly for himself to think it’s the most adorable thing ever.

That’s why he says, "Go leave me alone and smooch your boyfriend.“ Right?

 

 

It takes Minho about a month until he starts questioning the rate of his heartbeat each time Newt says his name out loud. A month until he realizes his stomach boils with warmth each time Newt appears on his laptop screen and a month until he notices that this isn’t like it had been before – nothing is.

So when in February the last bits of snow fall and the bitterness of the wind outside eases up, Minho sits down next to Thomas at lunch break. Normally Minho spends his breaks on the bleachers outside to finish his notes or study alone – or sometimes even just to watch the football players pretend to know what they are doing.

But today he doesn’t.

 

"When did you realize you were gay?“ It’s the first thing that rolls off his tongue as he slams his backpack mindlessly onto the canteen table.

Thomas, however, doesn’t even blink before he answers, "I am pansexual.“ and takes a bite of his sandwich. It’s tuna – Minho wrinkles his nose in dislike.

"What‘s that supposed to mean?“ he asks, "You have a thing for good ol‘ Frypan?“

The look Thomas gives him in return is humorless and so is his following laugh. "Ha ha, Minho," he fakes lazily, "slow down the comedy a bit, will you?“

Minho fakes a cough, but doesn’t hide the "Asshole“ that escapes him.

Thomas puts down his sandwich, eyeing up the Asian boy next to him. "Excuse you?“

Minho rolls his eyes in return. "Just tell me, god damn.“

"Pansexuality, or omnisexuality, is the sexual attraction, romantic love, or emotional attraction towards people regardless of their sex or gender identiy.“

"You sound like wikipedia itself.“

Thomas groans. "Did you just come here to be a bitch?“

"I asked you when you realized you like guys.“

Thomas hums in thought, picking up his sandwich again. "Probably when I started to stare at their asses,“ he answers, shrugging his shoulders.

And Minho can just roll his eyes another time at the brunet’s words. "Okay," he huffs, "what did I even expect.“

He wants to stand up again, but Thomas grips the hem of his sweater and pulls him down to sit. "Why all the questions, hm?" he teases, "Is jock Minho questioning his straightness? Trust me, just thinking about it for once and there is no way you can be saved.“

Minho’s face twists in confusion just then, fluster painting his features. "I am not gay!“ It slips off his plump lips without a single thought, but Thomas only laughs, taking another bite of his sandwich.

When he speaks there is a drop of spit hitting the table’s surface and Minho looks at it in slight disgust. "That‘s what they all say, but the 'no homo‘ hashtag just makes everyone more gay.“

"What the fuck are you talking about?“

Thomas doesn’t answer, but swallows and shoots a question right back. "Who makes you question your illusion of a normal life, buddy?“

"What?“ Minho starts feeling uncomfortable, but that’s nothing entirely new with Thomas by his side. "Nobody!“

"Whose ass have you been looking at lately?“

"Thomas, stop it,“ he barks out, showing off his best scowl.

But Thomas doesn’t stop and Minho regrets talking to him in the first place. "Or have you been watching inappropriate films?“

Minho stands up then again, saying, „I‘m leaving.“ but Thomas once again pulls him down by the blurred blue material of his sweater and he hits the chair with a low groan.

HHey, come on.“ Thomas nudges his side, grin spread across his lips. "You can tell me. We‘re best friends.“

This time Minho is the one to give his friend a blank expression. "No, we‘re not,“ he mumbles, "sorry to break it to you, but Newt is still my best friend.“

"So you talk again?“

Minho’s face twists in confusion. „What do you mean?“ he asks and Thomas shrugs nonchalantly.

"I talk to him, too, you know. He told me you guys had a huge fight.“

"So you know about his boyfriend as well?“

Thomas nods. "‘Course.“

"And you‘re okay with it?“

"Well, yes.“ Thomas chews on another piece of his sandwich when suddenly his dark eyebrows furrow. "Aren‘t you?“

"I am!“ Minho quickly answers, "I just– You guys were dating.“

"That’s already a year ago now, Minho.“

"But you loved each other, right?“ Minho presses yet again and this time Thomas halts.

"What actually are you trying to hint at?“ he asks, confusion painting his face.

Minho averts his eyes. "I am not trying to hint at anything, but don‘t you think he found himself someone else pretty fast?“

Thomas shakes his head, brown streaks whirling lightly. "Not really, no.“ he says and he is certain of his words and Minho peaks at him through his lashes, when suddenly– "Wait," he drawls, "do you have a thing for Newt?“

It’s the moment Minho’s eyes widen a bit and he presses his lips into a firm line, before he counters, "What? That‘s ridiculous, Thomas.“

And Minho hates the smirk that suddenly grows on the other’s lips when he asks, "Is it really?“

"Well, yes!" he exlaims, "He‘s my best friend. It‘s not like I could imagine myself in a relationship with him.“

Minho absolutely hates it. "Oh my god. You totally have a thing for Newt.“

"Stop talking shit!“

"I knew this day would come!“

"What?“

"I knew you would let him bend you one day.“

"This sounds so wrong–“

"I gotta call Brenda, though.“

"No, you fucking won‘t. What the fuck, Thomas!“

"Minho, you don‘t understand. We‘ve been waiting for this day.“

"I hate you.“ He is certain he does.

 

 

It’s not a surprise when both Thomas and Brenda immediately start nagging him about his so called 'crush‘ on Newt. He still denies it, though – even when it starts to become more half hearted each time. It’s nice to tell himself sometimes he doesn’t love his best friend in such way, but there is an unpleasant twist whenever Newt mentions Ben’s name on the phone and Minho doesn’t know if he should just give in and believe the jealousy, that burns among his skin, or his memory. Because his memory tells him there had never been honest romantic love involved in their bond – there had been only two best friends with their hearts attached to the other’s in firm strings, forming a rhythm that shook with unity and understanding. There hadn’t been any room for love when they had been friends – not when they‘ve seen the way it destroyed the walls of each grown-up. They swore never to let love end them like that, never let it get too close – Minho knows now that this purity had burst like a bubble, but it had been predictable, anyway. Their innocence had been confined, right? Everything is.

 

Minho starts to learn how to handle the feelings that make his fingertips tingle and his heart flutter. It flusters him sometimes – for example when he starts imagening the blond in ways that surely wouldn’t be defined appropiate. It’s new, it’s exciting, but it’s hurtful, as well.

When they video chat and Newt sits in only a large T-Shirt and boxers in front of his laptop, Minho’s mind starts to fizz, bubbles filled with images popping up. He thinks about running his palms along the smooth skin of Newt’s thighs, watching as the soft mewls would escape his sweet lips like a swarm of shooting stars, burning out when they hit the walls. He thinks about gracing his teeth along the other’s collarbones, nipping at the sensitive flesh of his neck, watching him crane it in order of giving more, more space for Minho to mark. He thinks about a lot he shouldn’t be thinking of – kissing Newt, touching Newt, taking his all, but giving just as much in return. He thinks about Newt constantly and it’s not fair, it really isn’t – but what is?

 

 

And when in April the sun shines while the rain pours, kissing the pavements in a wave, Minho forgets 'fair‘ is a word.

Newt’s face appears on the screen of his laptop,  but before he can admire the blond boy’s milky skin peaking out underneath his thin navy-blue sweatshirt, he notices the red rimming Newt’s usually so bright eyes.

It comes as an instinct. "What happened?“

"Nothing.“ Newt smiles, it’s weak and doesn’t even posses half the might to reach his eyes. "Why are you asking?“

"Newt," he exhales lowly, "I can tell you have been crying.“

And the pause that follows is almost predictable. Newt lowers his head and Minho watches as the messy honey coloured streaks fall into his eyes. He watches as he fumbles with the sleeves of his shirt – something Newt had done for as long as Minho could remember whenever he had gotten nervous.

"Ben and I just had a fight.“ It leaves the blond’s cherry lips along with a sigh. "Nothing important.“

Minho asks about it anyway. "What was it about?“

"He just–“ Newt finally lifts his gaze, eyes meeting Minho’s, but he doesn’t know about the sweet jolt running through Minho’s veins. "He keeps getting angry at me, because I haven‘t told my mom about us yet.“

"That asshole could be more patient, he knows about your fears.“

When Newt adverts his gaze again, Minho’s brows furrow. "Well, maybe he doesn‘t know everything.“

"What do you mean?“ A pause and– "Newt?“

And Newt breaks. "He‘s just so perfect, Minho,“ he exlaims weakly as their eyes meet – this time Minho doesn’t feel a jolt, but a lightning strike instead, "he has literally not a single flaw and I– I do. I have so many flaws and my life is just one big disappointment and I don‘t want to ruin him with all my mistakes and flaws. I mean, I don‘t even know what he sees in me, but I just feel like I shouldn‘t risk anything by revealing more of me.“

Minho looks at him. "Newt...“ Oh Newt, my darling, my love – baby. "How can you say that?“

"It‘s just," the blond stammers, gaze running in circles, "I mean–“

"Nobody on this planet is perfect.“ But you – you are. God you are so fucking perfect. You're so amazing and if Ben doesn‘t see this, he must be fucking retarded. "I know your life isn‘t always good and maybe there are more bad than good days for you, but Ben should be fucking thankful to just have you as his and he should try to make each and every day of your life the best.“

Minho hears his heart breaking when– "I don‘t deserve it.“

"There is no-one who‘d deserve it more.“

The quivering smile on the blond’s lips resembles spring and its softest forms – poppies, daisies, roses and sunflowers. "What about Adele though?“ he asks and Minho rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smile that forms on his own lips now.

"Adele already has a pretty awesome life,“ he says.

Newt raises an eyebrow. "But you agree, she is great?“

"Newt.“

"Sorry.“ He lowers his head again, cheeks flushed. "I would really like to hug you right now. I know it might sound weird to you–“

"It doesn’t," Minho answers, almost out of breath, "I want to hug you, too.“ And maybe a little more.

When Newt looks at him, Minho can’t help but admire the pink tint on his cheeks, reaching to the tip of his ears and creeping its way to his neck. "It‘s just so crazy, that we haven‘t actually seen eachother for so long and seeing you on only a small screen feels way too unreal.“

Minho’s smile is tender, like a secret kiss placed on the other boy’s forehead. "I know what you mean," he murmures gently, "I can‘t even pinch your cheeks like this. Pretty much sucks.“

Newt laughs in return and Minho feels himself feeling better when he mumbles, "Ah stop it.“ the blush lasting.

And Minho says, "But really, I think I should come visit you.“

And Newt answers, "I don‘t want you to waste your money for me.“

But what Newt doesn’t know is that Minho wouldn’t consider it as 'wasting‘ and what Minho doesn’t know is that Newt hopes he wouldn’t.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **하루만** **더** **있다가** **짐** **풀고**  
>  _haruman deo itdaga jim pulgo  
>  Stay one more day, unpack_
> 
> **이따가** **영화나** **보러** **가자** **나** **울고** **있잖아** **please**  
>  _iddaga yeonghwana boreo gaja na ulgo itjanha please  
>  let's go watch a movie later, I'm crying right now, please_

 

And summer comes easy and summer comes light and before Minho even realizes it is June and the air is muggy in Georgia, but the sun kisses his skin in the most pleasant way and although each flower brings a certain blond to his mind, he inhales their scent as if it holds the might to cure every bit of sadness.

And Minho doesn’t know if it’s the high temperature level’s fault that rules the day time, but he talks Brenda, Thomas and Winston into a trip.

 

"A fucking expensive trip,“ Brenda corrects.

"She’s right, though," Winston argues, "that makes about 1,000 Dollars for the flight there and back again – and that’s just for one person.“ There's a tint of pity painting his expression.

Brenda nods her head, her dark hair in a ponytail. "Right," she agrees, "and if we’re fucked it won’t even cost 1,000 Dollars, but 1,500 or even 2,000.“

"And think about the money that adds when we’re there. We’ll have to pay for a taxi to come to Edington first and if we don’t wanna get raped at night we would have to pay for a stay at a hotel, as well,“ Winston adds and Minho groans, head hitting the canteen table.

"Come on, guys," he whines loudly, "it’s Newt’s birthday in a month.“ He wants this so desperately, he’d steal the money from the poor Juniors at his school if that meant he gets to see Newt.

Winston crosses his arms in front of his chest, thoughtful frown like a mask on his face. "How did you think of getting the money together?“ he asks.

"Ever heard of ebay?“ Minho counters and Brenda laughs humorlessly.

"That won’t bring you that far, Minho,“ she says.

That’s when Thomas speaks up eventually, eyes trained on the physics book inside his hands. "She’s right," he states mindlessly, "you should do a garage sell instead or sell some of your stuff somewhere where a lot of people are. Doesn’t take as much time as to wait for someone to buy your shit over the internet.“

Brenda twirls a loose streak around her finger. "Still doesn’t change the fact that this won’t even bring you 4,000 Dollars if all of us shall come with you to England.“

Minho lets his gaze travel from her face to her hair and back. "You know," he starts slowly, "there are still other options, though.“

All of them exchange a look, skeptical when they hear Minho’s words.

"What is it?“ Brenda asks the first and he runs a finger along the line of her long ebony hair.

"You could perhaps cut your hair and spend it.“ He then smiles at her innocently.

But Brenda swats his hand away. "Give up years of work for a flight ticket? Do you for chance listen to yourself sometimes?“

"It’s not even a stupid idea,“ Winston interjects suddenly and Minho’s face lights up, „if your hair is actually healthy enough and especially beautiful you could already earn half the price of one of your own tickets.“

Minho just nods furiously, but Brenda shakes her head. "Does this help you? No, it doesn’t.“

"Men can sell their sperm.“ Thomas‘ words make the others go silent and for a moment they just look at him.

"You’re," Brenda begins hesitantly, "you’re not being serious right now.“ Thomas still doesn't spare them a single glance and Brenda's eyes widen when she looks at the thoughtful faces of her other two friends. "You’re basically a father of a child when your semen gets used!“ he exclaims.

"We would have no obligations, though,“ Winston murmures, and then all three boys exchange silent looks.

"Please, don’t tell me you’re actually considering this idea–“

But Minho interrups her, "How much would we get for this?“

"It depends on the quality of course," Thomas tells him, "but it would be about 160 Dollars per donation, I think.“ And yet another time the eyes of the three boys meet. Brenda doesn’t even dare to ask why he knows the exact price.

"We’re actually doing this?“ she asks, voice full of doubt.

But Minho nods, beaming now as he says, "I think we are, yeah.“

 

 

June passes with a lot of stress – the four have yet for their final exams to study, so close to graduation. But in their free time the stress doesn’t die. They start with selling Winston’s grandmother’s unused jewelry – necklaces, diamond rings and brooches that bring a lot of money for the start. Brenda actually cuts her hair to donate it and Minho, Thomas and Winston are there for here when she cries about it. They take her out for ice cream that day, telling her they are proud of her and that she should be, as well. And after a week she is, loving the short hair, because "Guys, it’s so much easier to handle – I now understand why your lifes are so much easier.“ And she waves the banknotes teasingly in front of their eyes. Next Minho sells some old junk out of his basement and Thomas puts up some cheap paintings next to his booth while Winston offers cake to passengers in the neighbourhood. While Thomas tries his luck with walking dogs of old women, Minho suggests Brenda to start a car wash – he knows he deserves the slap that follows. Winston helps out in his father’s butcher’s, Minho delivers pizza and Brenda stands behind the cash register of a supermarket. Their month is filled with much work, but a lot of laughs, too, and Brenda’s favourite part is the sperm donation, but neither of the others want to talk about it.

However, when Minho buys the tickets they yelp in victory – it’s in their school’s canteen, but neither of them gives a fuck as they jump on eachother’s backs and dance their own little victory dances.

 

 

They have only one night to stay in England, but Minho needs nothing more. It had been a challenge not to tell Newt about it as soon as the idea was settled – so that’s why Minho is even more nervous now, the secret buzzing inside his stomach as if he had swallowed a bee that only wants to escape. It’s the third of November and five in the morning. Minho is sitting with his fingers curling tightly around the armrest while his right foot taps rhythmically against the bottom of the seat in front of him.

Brenda notices first. "Why are you so nervous?“ she asks him after only a total of thirty minutes of their flight.

"Maybe he is shitting himself only by thinking of a plane crash,“ Thomas butts in, already starting to 'read‘ the second magazine he brought with him.

Minho only shakes his head.

"Just do it like Win – but cut out the snoring.“ Brenda points at their friend, who sits by the window, nose in the air and mouth hanging wide open as he sleeps peacefully, a horrible set of snores making the poor boy choke on his own spit once in a while.

Minho shakes his head another time. "I’m not afraid of flying.“

Thomas laughs dumbly. "That could be a phrase of a High School Musical song, though.“ However, Brenda and Minho ignore him.

"Oh," Brenda suddenly speaks up, "I know exactly what bothers you," she says, the smirk on her glossy lips making Minho suppress a groan, "you’re so excited to see Newt!“ she drawls teasingly.

"I just hope he likes my present – nothing else,“ Minho tries to defend himself half-heartedly, but he knows neither Thomas nor Brenda are buying his shitty excuses.

That’s why Brenda snorts just shortly after his words. "You know, you don’t have to worry about anything, right? He’ll probably smooch you right then and there. It’s not like he will leave you standing at his doorstep.“

"Now, I wouldn‘t say that," Thomas chimes in anew, "I would leave him standing at my doorstep.“

"I wouldn‘t visit you in the first place.“

"Rude.“

 

 

It is about 2 PM when they finally land in London Heathrow - fight of 9 hours, filled with Winstons snoring, Thomas‘ nagging about the food and Brenda’s complaining about Thomas, won. Minho is exhausted, to put it bluntly. He had heard probably about three different people throw up in the period of a few hours and the scent of the cheaply made food still stings in his nose – he also has this feeling his pants smell like tomato juice.

 

It takes them another two hours to reach Edington with the taxi and the fare just keeps rising, but Minho tells himself to calm down, because they are nearly there and mentally he thanks Thomas for actually having Newt’s current address ("We’re Pen Pals.“ – "Gross.“) so they don’t have to wander through the streets of England helplessly.

 

"I just hope Newt has a few mattresses at home, because we have no hotel now.“

Thomas glares at Brenda. "Could you be positive for once?“

"You were the one, who whined nearly two hours about the rice cake they served on the flight!“ she fights back and Minho sighs from the passenger seat.

Thomas rolls his eyes in return, brown orbs plopping up and down. "Because it actually tasted like rice!“

Brenda’s expression turns to confusion. "What went wrong in your upbringing?“

Winston laughs quietly at them as Thomas gasps, but Minho lets them fade out, only training his eyes on the houses they pass by and the people that walk along the pavements. He runs his thumb up and down the yellow wrapped present inside his hands – underneath the paper there is a book. It’s a novel called 'The Black Room‘ and it’s written by Newt’s favourite author, Colin Wilson. Minho also put a bar of white chocolate on top of it, knowing Newt would like it.

However, Minho’s thoughts are torn apart when suddenly the car stops. The old man beside him asks for the money and Brenda and Thomas stop talking and now Minho’s heart is in his throat as he gives the driver a pack of pounds and exits the yellow scrap truck. What captures his attention first are the white painted walls of the mansion in front of him and its garden’s iron gate and high fencing. There is no porch, however, – not like it had been in Newt’s home in America – and no round dormer window. The lawn looks maintained, the flower beds systematic somehow and in order.

Brenda, Thomas and Winston get the luggage from the trunk, but Minho just stands still, biting his lip nervously while he thinks about a way to calm his jumping heart down. His palms are sweaty, but the grip around the small present inside his hands never loosens.

"Don’t worry too much! He will be so happy.“ Winston‘s hand lays itself on top of Minho’s shoulder and he finally feels himself getting rid of some of the tension.

Brenda nods in agreement. "Win is right," she hums softly, "You can do it, come on! Go make him happy! We didn’t travel for nothing!“ She claps his back in encouragement and Thomas is smiling at him reassuringly, too.

And that’s when Minho nods, gives the wrapped book inside his hands a tight squeeze, and eventually walks up to the mansion’s door. He swallows the anxiety in one go, presses the door bell and–

Absolutely nothing happens.

He turns around to the other three still standing close behind him, giving him a thumbs up, but when he presses the doorbell a second time, still nothing happens and after the third time he turns his back and trudges down the stairs, all faces of the other three fallen. Minho curses himself, because why had he been actually so stupid to think Newt spends his birthday at home? He’s probably out with Ben or he–

Minho freezes on spot when he hears the front door open behind him. Suddenly he is afraid to turn around, afraid his mind is playing tricks on him or that it’s just Newt’s mother. But all those fears and doubts shrink into nothing when he hears the soft croak of a voice – a voice that even visited his dreams more than just one night and sang him lullabies in his fantasies and daydreams.

"Minho?“  
  
It’s real, he knows it is, and Minho spins on his heels and turns around, but before even having to look up, he crashes into the slender body standing in the door frame and he knows without a single doubt that it is Newt whom he is holding. It sucks from his heart and weakens his knees when he inhales the familiar whiff of cinnamon and citron and engulfs the smaller frame in longing. He has Newt so tightly wrapped inside his arms, feeling whole, feeling on top of the world, and Newt’s arms wrap around his neck, his palms pressing into the nape of it and sending tingles among Minho’s skin.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?“ He hears the muffled words, but can't bring himself to even answer. All he shouts is, "Happy Birthday!“ as his hands come to grip the blond’s waist, afraid that letting go could make Newt disappear, sweeping him off his feet and taking him somewhere else.

But before Minho can bury his face in the crook of the other’s neck, Newt is already leaning out of reach and his grip falters. Just then Minho is able to eventually take a look at his best friend and – it, it just, it absolutely takes his breath away. He had never seen the boy like this – so incredibly beautiful in each way, with hair that shimmers underneath the sun like honey inside a mug of camomile tea and eyes that could devour a thousand milky ways. It offers templates for sinful dreams, but couldn’t be more pure at the same time. Newt had always been handsome, but yet Minho took years to see him in a different light and now it was burning inside his eyes and gnawing at his heart, because Minho might be a fast runner, but managing time had never been his master discipline. Because even though he is now standing here, on time for Newt’s birthday, he still is too late.

He knows the moment a boy appears behind Newt in the door frame. He is tall, taller than Newt, and his hair is blond – he is also broad and muscular and–

"Ah more guests?“ he asks and his eyebrows rise as he observes Minho. Minho had seen him in many pictures before, name linked to the top of Newt's facebook page.

Minho is about to say something, when Newt suddenly interrups him. "Ben, this is Minho.“ And Minho just closes his mouth again, because this is Ben – Newt’s boyfriend. "Oh bloody hell! Brenda! Thomas! Win! I can‘t believe this!“ Newt shouts happily, but Minho just keeps standing at the same spot, glancing at the boy in front of him as Newt runs past him to embrace the other three visitors.

"Our baby got so strong!“ Brenda coos happily as she wraps herself around the blond, making him giggle in return.

Winston nods, grinning. "Yeah, he’s more muscular now," he agrees, pinching Newt’s arm.

However, when it’s Thomas turn to hug the boy, he says, "Ah, but he still smells like a girl though.“

Brenda hits the back of his head. "Shut up, Thomas.“

"Yeah, at least he doesn‘t smell like dog shit.“

Thomas gasps. "I don‘t smell like dog shit!“ he yells.

"Right, more like puppy poop.“

And Newt laughs, loud and carefree, and immediately it brings Minho back to reality. A warm smile grows on his lips when he hears the others‘ joyful shouts of 'Happy Birthday‘ and he hears Newt compliment Brenda’s new haircut and then he hears them tell the blond about their crazy last month and that she had donated it and Newt just listens with wide eyes and a grin on his face.

It’s wonderful - Minho chuckles lightly - but suddenly it’s torn apart and there is a hand directed at him, waiting for a firm shake probably. For a moment Minho fears Ben can read his mind while their eyes meet – scared the other could be able to list all his doubts and sense the jealousy that spread around Minho’s presence like a cloth from silk, enveloping his frame in envy.

But it’s not like that at all, because there is a tiny smile on Ben’s lips when he says, "I’m Ben.“ And when Minho answers shortly with his name as well, it grows. They shake hands and Minho already hates the way this guy is so shucking charming and polite – a thing that probably tells them apart.

"Newt has told me a lot about you.“

Newt’s soft laugh follows. "Only the worst, of course.“

And when Thomas chides in with, "I could add some stories.“ Minho can’t help but roll his eyes and tell him to, "Shut up, slinthead“.

 

It’s then when Newt finally invites them in, no sight of his mother nor stepfather and his son. Minho peers curiously at the house’s furniture and rich furnishings, bare walls and silken seat covers placed neatly over couch’s and armchair’s cushion, and also an old-fashioned fireplace in the centre of the living room. He puts his suitcase on the red carpet, leaning it against the bottom of the sofa – Winston, Thomas and Brenda follow suit.

"Where shall we put your presents, birthday boy?“ Brenda asks and Newt sighs when he sees the poorly wrapped packages inside their hands.

"You shouldn’t give me anything!" he protests, "Your flight tickets were already too expensive anyway!“

Thomas ignores the blond, places his present on the small coffee table beside the couch and claps his hands once. "You can open those later. Now, where is the cake?“

Newt cracks a smile.

 

It turns out Newt does have cake – actually Teresa brought it. The plate sits on the centre of the table on Newt’s terrace and Minho is surprised when he sees about eight other people sitting around it comfortably, chatting and laughing. Newt just brings more folding chairs, but still some people have to share one or sit on eachother’s laps in order to make some more room for the newcomers. Minho feels like he is interrupting something as he silently sits down on a chair next to Newt, who has to sit on Ben’s lap instead – Minho would’ve liked to change positions with Ben right then, but it’s just because his seat next to Thomas is in the sun and it makes his skin burn... right?

"So, you come from…?“ The first to begin a conversation is a girl, sitting on her boyfriend’s lap – well, Minho assumes he is her boyfriend, otherwise he probably wouldn’t braid her hair lazily and look like he’d done it many times before already. She is sweet, with eyes like crystals and wavy chestnut hair that compliments her flushed cheeks and full lips.

Thomas shoves another piece of cake into his mouth, but answers anyway, "America! Georgia!“

"Really?“ The girl’s eyes widen in excitement. "That’s so cool!" She turns to the rest. "Isn’t that so cool, guys?“

In return her boyfriend offers her a soft pad on her bare thighs, the light loose sundress only covering the half of them. "We’ll visit Georgia one day, Rachel,“ he murmures and the grin that follows shows on both of their faces.

So Minho learns that the girl’s name is Rachel and her boyfriend’s name is Aris when Newt finally introduces them all. Aris is lanky and nondescript, but a kind soul with a quirky laugh. Very different to Alby, the boy next to him – muscular arms crossed in front of his chest, skin like a coat of coal and eyes narrowed each time Minho looks at him. He is not sure, but believes Alby had probably heard of him before. Just like Teresa – although her smile is sweet when he glances her way. Teresa’s whole appearance could be described as 'sweet‘ – with hair resembling black silk and eyes occupying a thousand waves of salt water. Minho swears he sees Brenda’s eyes wander around the girl’s head from time to time.

Then there are also Jeff and Clint and Minho notices they are attached to the other’s hip, completing eachother’s sentences and wearing the same expressions no matter what. Gally, sitting right by their side, rolls his eyes each time the both of them erupt in dorky guffaw and high-five eachother like they’ve just pranked a toddler. Gally looks slightly pissed throughout the whole time, but Minho isn’t sure if it’s just his eyebrows‘ fault. However, Sonya, the last one to be introduced to the round, nudges the boy’s side every now and then, telling him to cheer up. And sometimes he does, smiling slightly at the girl with locks tinted strawberry blonde and fair skin dotted with a few moles and light freckles.

Jeff looks at the four visitors. "And are you all done with school already?“ he asks and Clint adds, "Already graduated?“

"Not yet," Thomas answers, "but at the end of this month the time has finally come.“

Alby’s expression, however, is critical when he asks, „Do you already have plans on what to do?“

And his eyes are trained on Minho suddenly, but before he can say anything, Newt chimes in, happy grin plastered onto his face. "Min applied to that one sports university already.“ His words make Minho’s heart flutter innocently and when their knees brush it spreads its wings.

"A sports university, huh?“ Alby exchanges a look with Ben, before looking right back at Minho.

He clears his throat awkwardly. "Well, uh, yes.“

"Impressive,“ Ben compliments and Minho feels slightly relieved when a smile forms on his lips. "I’m at a sports university myself," he tells him, "you’ll learn a lot about sports in general – about physical culture, excercise science, health promotion like sports medicine or physical therapy and all of that stuff. But it’s a real enrichment as well. I mean the training is hard, but fun.“

Minho gapes curiously, a little bit taken aback by the other boy’s success. "What do you?" he asks stunned, "I mean what do you train for?“

"Track and field athletics, but I’m more concentrating on High Jump.“

Minho's brows rise even higher. "I also want to train for track and field athletics! Running!“

"He‘s the best of the track team already! Keeping the records for Hurdling and Sprints.“ Minho’s gaze wanders to Newt as the words slip off his pretty pink lips proudly. His heart does a jump.

"Sounds like you have the chances to make your plans work out then,“ Ben then says, but when Minho starts to grow uncertain his friends chip in immediately.

He says, "I don’t know," and, "it’s really just a dream at the moment.“

And Brenda hits his back in return, voice booming when she asks, "Ah, why so shy all at sudden?“

And even Rachel starts nodding furiously and wiggles happily on Aris‘ lap, saying,  "Yeah!" she agrees loudly, "You should be proud of that!“ Minho can’t help but lift the corners of his mouth.

However that doesn’t last long, because – well, Thomas. "Don‘t you usually use your medals to get the girls?“ That shithead is snickering and Minho fights down the urge to shove his face into the last pieces of cake.

"Hey, sweet pea, wanna see my gold medals?“ Winston imitates the Asian boy in a deep voice and suddenly the others start to snicker, as well.

Minho hits the back of his head, protesting, "I don‘t do that!“

"Oh you totally do that,“ Brenda argues.

"That‘s like years ago.“

"More like five months, Minho.“

Thomas frowns. "No, actually it‘s been seven months.“

And Minho loses his cool. "You‘ve been counting?“

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _La li la di dada la li da_
> 
> **너를** **감싸** **안은** **하늘이** **싫다**  
>  _neoreul gamssa aneun haneuri silda  
>  I hate the sky for wrapping around you_

 

And they keep talking, several topics that come and pass, and Minho notices there are people, who are there for Newt and who know him and he is relieved.

And when the sun slowly starts to set, hiding its glory behind maple trees and oaks, only peaking through a few gaps between the thicket, Teresa rises from her chair. "Now," she starts off, "I don’t know about all of you, but I feel the need to celebrate.“

Minho nearly laughs at Brenda’s face – a mixture of dorky grin and dreamy smile. He sees right through it. But then all of them stand up suddenly, following suit, because "It’s time to honor our little baby sunshine!“ – "Hey don‘t call me that! I‘m 19 now!“ – "Still a baby, though. I mean look at your face.“ – "What’s that s‘pposed to mean?“ – "Yeah, sometimes I feel like Newt carries eternal youth.“ – "Morons.“

And when Minho sees the blond grinning, dimples visible and crinkles sitting at his bright eyes, he feels his heart swell, adoring the might it carries – just like nothing can harm him, even though Minho knows there are parasites eating at his strength. He loves the way Newt feels pressed into his side when they take the subway to reach the old shaggy club in the city center, telling Minho silly stories about his work at the coffee shop – including his co-workers Gally, Sonya and Aris. He also loves the way Newt is being swallowed by the volume of booming music when they finally reach their destination – boxes roaring, people dancing and reminding Minho of all the parties in High School.

And when Newt shouts against the music that, "Maybe you‘ll find yourself a nice girl here, huh?“ Minho can only look at the way his smile engulfs all worry and at the colourful radiating lights caressing his cheeks and lips and reflecting inside his eyes – and Minho is so far gone, he is about to tell him that, no, he can’t look at anyone else while he is there with him, but then Ben says, "Yeah, maybe a culture change is what you need.“ And Minho knows it‘s not the time to be honest.

It’s why he stands further from Newt when the group raises their glasses on the blond, cheering and yelling and laughing– and Newt’s smile outshines them all. Minho feels a weight pressing down on his lungs, sucking the air out of them, because this – right now, this – is what he had missed for far too long. Minho had missed this for over a year, because of miles seperating them, and for nearly a lifetime, because of his own stupidity. Everything is limited, he knows, and it is stupid – so fucking stupid.

The liquor burns in his throat and the thoughts float inside his head, like tangled letters of an alphabet soup. Suddenly he asks himself how he could’ve ever looked at all those girls when Newt had been right beside him all the time, being more beautiful than ever. He asks himself how an innocent bond could lead to – this. To flames and sensations that collide with his heart, so powerful and overwhelming, they scare Minho when he’s all alone, a hot mess and helpless, wimpering boy on his knees. He asks himself if this want sprouted from jealousy, loss or simply the certainty that he would never be able to be with his best friend in a way like this. He asks himself, he asks, asks, but he doesn’t find answers.

 

"I would stop if I was you. Some people may consider your staring as creepy.“ Minho slightly jumps when Rachel appears next to him suddenly, red cup in one hand as she follows his gaze to the dance floor.

Minho averts his eyes, gulping down his drink – the burning taste of strawberry and vodka kissing his tongue. "I wasn‘t staring at Newt,“ he mumbles, making the girl next to him chuckle.

"I didn‘t even mention his name, but nice try.“ Minho sees her grinning – he notices a bit of glitter dusting her cheekbones.

"I‘m just happy to see him again, okay?“

"You can be happy to see him again without staring, you know, just saying.“

Minho rolls his eyes, letting his gaze travel through the crowd, hopping from head to head. "I know,“ he grunts, "I get it.“

"Also, I‘m not sure if Ben approves, as well.“

Her words make Minho narrow his eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?“

But she just grins again, dimples appearing on each cheek. "Nothing!“ she exclaims, and Minho turns even more confused.

"It‘s not like I‘m trying to flirt with my best friend,“ he tells her matter-of-factly, making her nod as if he was actually stating the obvious.

"Of course not," she agrees, "you just–“ Then she hesitates, but shakes her head. "Ah, nevermind. Do you want another drink?“

Minho gives her a dazed expression, mouth agape. "What?“ he asks stupidly, "No! Tell me!“

Rachel folds her arms in front of her chest. "I would appreciate it if you would slow down the fire a bit.“

He blinks once. "The what–?“

"It‘s not nice to yell at someone like this,“ she tells him and somehow he shrinks back slightly, "I mean I know the music is loud and I don‘t even like this song, but just–“

He then raises his hands in defense. "Alright, alright!" he utters, "I‘m sorry, okay?“

"You really need to work on your temper,“ Rachel says next and Minho furrows his brows again.

"What‘s that supposed to mean now?!“

She raises her own eyebrows. "Wow.“

"Okay, you know what? This conversation is very confusing.“

Minho is stunned when yet again a lovely grin appears on the girl’s pink lips. "I was trying to chat a little bit, no harm,“ she hums happily, finally deciding to hop on one of the bar stools they were standing next to. She leans one elbow on the counter, prepping her chin in her palm and then flashes Minho another grin. "My name is Rachel.“

Minho’s eyebrows raise higher without him even wanting to pull a muscle. "I know that,“ he says, voice flat.

She sighs and her pretty eyes do a spin, but the smile on her lips lingers. "That‘s not how you introduce yourself!“

And just then Minho eventually gives in. "Okay, okay,“ he grunts, eyes meeting the girl’s expectant ones, "Hi, Rachel. I am Minho," he tries to smile, but fails miserably, "Is that good?“

Rachel’s grin grows once again. "Nice to meet you, Minho," she chirps sweetly, "I‘ve heard a lot about you already. I wanted to make up my own mind about you, though.“

"Oh really?“ That awakes his interest. "What do you think by now?“

"You‘re even more sarcastic than Newt described you as. I‘m trying to figure out how you both actually ended up as best friends.“

"I feel slightly attacked.“

She giggles. "Don‘t worry," she reassures, "there is not only bad that comes with a person. I think you can be nice, too.“

"Thank you?“ It leaves Minho’s lips with a question mark, flustered by the way she treats him with understanding.

"You just need to loosen up,“ she decides then, "How about another drink?“

"Are you trying to fill me up?“

She only giggles.

 

Five cups of strawberry liquor later Minho finds himself more relaxed, leaning lazily against the bar’s counter. The songs have changed for about seven times – or has it been ten times? – and Minho peacefully watches Winston talk to Jeff and Clint and he laughs at Thomas, who looks like he’s annoying the shit out of Gally, but Minho sees the grumpy male’s secret smiles, as well. Aris is dancing with Sonya, even though he comes up to Rachel every now and then, only having been successful for maybe two songs and dancing with her. And both of them are tugging wildly at Alby’s hands and arms to bring him to dance with them instead of criticizing their drunken movements. Also Minho is sure he sees Brenda and Teresa leaving for the back door of the club, bodies swallowed by the moving crowd until Minho isn’t able to see them anymore.

However, when Minho finally looks over to Newt, the alcohol inside the pit of his stomach burns anew, toxic rising and creeping through every inch of his body. The blond is dancing with Ben, their bodies so close and Minho absolutely hates it – he hates Ben’s hands groping Newt’s hips, hates them looking at eachother, let alone kiss eachother. Minho hates July, hates summer and love. He hates strawberries in that moment, hates music and mostly himself. But never Newt.

 

"I feel like throwing up,“ he announces, but he still swallows the rest of his drink, making Rachel giggle amused next to him.

"I thought you were already practiced in partying,“ she replies, cheeks flushed red.

"Did Newt actually say that?“

She crosses her legs. "Well, he had been mentioning your name and parties a lot in the same sentences.“

Minho feels another wave of sickness wash over him. "I feel terrible.“

Rachel is about to release another giggle, but when she sees the expression on his face she stops herself, eyes widening gently. "Why?“

Minho sighs. "I was the worst best friend.“ The alcohol takes his inhibitions. "I was,“ he hiccups, making Rachel smile warmly at him, "I was horrible.“

"Don‘t say that," she murmures, voice so soft and her palm pressing into his shoulder, "you‘re too hard on yourself.“

But Minho shakes his head, because, "No, I was actually missing out everything. I was too busy hooking up with some girls I wouldn‘t see again, anyway, than actually trying to listen to him for once. There had been going on so much and I didn‘t even notice," he hiccups again, "I, his best friend, didn‘t even try to be a part of his life. I could‘ve – could’ve helped him – He was too afraid to even talk to me. I mean, isn‘t that so bad, Rachel? I mean, I could be in Ben‘s place right now, but I – fucked up so bad.“

Rachel’s hand wanders to his back, petting it softly. She takes away his half filled cup carefully and turns on her stool to look directly at him. "Why are you here?“ she asks him, smile tugging yet again at the corners of her mouth.

Minho answers with a frown. "What do you mean? It‘s Newt's birthday. I gotta,“ hiccup, "gotta come.“

"No, Minho.“ She giggles and Minho starts to really like her little giggles. "I mean, why are you standing here the whole time instead of being right beside Newt?“

"I don’t – I don‘t know.“ But he does know. It is not only Ben keeping Minho away from Newt – it is also the guilt, the jealousy, the feelings inside his chest, the painful thumping of his heart and the regret of missing out on this beautiful person for far too long. It is only himself that keeps Minho away from Newt.

"Your stares tell a different story.“ It’s the truth, but Minho despises it. The anger rises inside of him – Ben’s hands are still on Newt’s waist, but Minho sits just there, because – because what?

"What are you?" he barks suddenly, "Mrs. Know-It-All?“ And his words turn harsh, emotions on full display.

"Just stating your obvious crush here.“

He narrows his eyes at her. "You don‘t know me," he grunts, "stop acting like some cheap horoscope. You probably have no fucking clue about problematic situations like this. At least your sweetheart loves you back.“

"Aris isn‘t my first boyfriend, you know,“ she tells him and he rolls his eyes, looking for his cup. Where the fuck did it go?

"Of course, whatever.“

In the next moment Rachel’s snap of a finger brings his attention back to her and when she tells him to, "Stop the snapping, will ya?“ the crinkles on his forehead disappear and he sighs.

"Sorry, Rachel. I’m feeling kinda a lot right now and the – the alcohol, this strawberry thing, is fucking with my head right now.“

Her smile clears his mind a little bit. "It‘s okay,“ she reassures him and then she is standing up, dress falling past her knees. "I don‘t mean to force myself or my opinion on you, but if you don‘t start being more honest to yourself about your feelings and do something about them, you should just try to move on and forget about them instead.“

And the abruptness of her words hits Minho like a flat palm, but this time he knows she’s right.

"Thank you for standing at this nasty bar with me for about an hour now.“ It’s all he can say, really, and then her giggle rings out again.

She says, "It‘s no big deal.“ and "It‘s actually very entertaining to listen to you when you‘re drunk.“

And he says, "You probably know more about me now than my own mother does.“ in return, making her laugh.

She bowes – it’s silly, but Minho cuckles. "I feel honoured,“ she chirps, "but right now I think it is time to dance together with my boyfriend and you should dance some, too. It helps getting your mind off, I heard.“

And that’s when she leaves Minho alone with his thoughts, back against the counter with his hands empty and no cup to sip from. For a moment he asks himself what to do, but then – then, he finally knows the answer when he catches a glimpse of blond hair in the crowd. He strikes forward and throughout pushing through the huddle of moving bodies he never let‘s his eyes wander off Newt‘s face for once.

When he stands close to him, feeling like only five inches apart, he taps Ben’s shoulder and just as Ben looks up at him so does Newt and their eyes meet. Sweet tingles nibble at his stomach and a fire warms his chest.

"Am I allowed to have a dance with the birthday boy, by chance?“

And Ben moves actually aside, making room for Minho to embrace a giggling blond, taking his hand. Newt’s cheeks are flushed and Minho‘s chest slowly starts to hurt, but he would push all of his emotions away just to see Newt happy and shining like this – this is what fills him up with joy, light and love. And the second Newt throws his arms around Minho’s neck he gets all warm and flustered, wrapping his more delicate frame tighter inside his arms.

"I’m so bloody glad you‘re here,“ he mumbles and Minho has to concentrate on his words, because of the music, but he understands them nevertheless.

"I‘m glad to be able to make you happy.“

Laughter starts bubbling inside Newt’s throat as he hits his best friend’s chest. "Cheeser,“ he murmures softly, but all Minho can say in return is, "It’s true.“

Because when Newt looks at him again, Minho feels every bit of oxygen leave his lungs, bright eyes dazzling him and pulling him in. Because his best friend is so fucking beautiful and Minho feels like he will never be able to say he deserves him.

"Let’s not fuck things up again, alright?“ Newt’s voice is soft - his voice is so soft and it feels like honey dripping down Minho's back.

"I know I did so much ugly shit and I feel so fucking horrible and–“ Minho is being interrupted.

"Minho.“ Honey - no, sweeter than honey! - when his name slips off those pretty lips.

His eyes are stuck on Newt’s. "Yeah?“

"That‘s in the past," the blond eventually mumbles, "let‘s just promise not to fall back into old habits. I need my best friend.“

And Minho nods, head wobbling back and forth. "I promise, I fucking promise, Newt.“

And he does, he does promise Newt that. And so they just keep dancing and Minho would‘ve probably gotten mad when Thomas, Brenda and Winston suddenly joined them, but he is way too drunk for that and Newt’s smile is way too beautiful anyway and also it just feels like they are back in America, all together, living through High School but together. Minho never wants this night to end, but as soon as he thinks about it, it is over and they are all standing outside the club, the night wrapping them up in cold coats, kissing their faces in dark blows and combing their hair with sleek fingers.

  
Jeff and Clint are saying goodbye, Rachel and Aris also intending to leave. They are all hugging eachother and when all of sudden a pair of arms wrap around Minho’s middle as well, he grows stiff. A whiff of alcohol and peach greets him when he eventually realizes it is Rachel and she is talking to him.

"Don’t forget, your feelings are important, too,“ she whispers sweetly to him and he whispers in return, "Thank you.“ so softly, he hopes she still hears him.

But she doesn’t answer. Instead she hugs Newt, telling him she loves him and that he has grown so much and the others snicker silently when Aris tries to pry her off of the blond.

 

  
So in the end it is only Winston, Brenda, Thomas – who is already dozing off while standing – Teresa, Ben, Alby, Gally, Sonya, Newt and Minho, of course, and Minho really doesn‘t want to say goodbye – not yet.

And just as if Newt is able to read his mind, he asks, "Do you perhaps want to stay the night at my place? I mean, I know you guys probably need to leave soon again, but the house is empty so–“

"Yes,“ Minho interrups without a thought, tickling a soft sweet giggle out of the blond. Until he grins – it’s that silly grin he does, showing two rows of teeth and wiggling his eyebrows. "So you do wanna stay?“

And Brenda throws an arm around Newt‘s shoulder. "Only if the breakfast is for free,“ she slurs, and he smooches her cheek with a smacking kiss.

"Of course, Bren,“ he exclaims, "everything for you.“

She smiles, satisfied. "Ah, I missed that charming little butt of yours.“

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _La li la di dada la li da_
> 
> **너를** **밝혀주는** **저** **달이** **밉다**  
>  _neoreul balgyeojuneun jeo dari mibda  
>  I hate the moon for revealing you_

 

The stars are up when they return to Newt’s house, sparkling like millions of diamonds inside a sea of darkness. Minho inhales the bittersweet farewell of the day and lets himself be held in the night’s arms instead, the moon resplendent in between dust of greyish clouds.

He hears Sonya singing drunkenly - it’s the melody of a christmas song – and Alby tells her to stop, but gives up as soon as Winston joins her tired humming. Thomas quietly talks about his Christmas Eve from ten years ago and Gally holds him in place in case he falls over, one hand gripping the boy’s waist while the other lays on his ass. Minho hides a grin, but before he tells Brenda, he closes his mouth again. She is walking peacefully with Teresa, their fingers intertwined and shy smiles dancing on their lips while they look anywhere but at eachother.

Minho smiles, but it vanishes swiftly when he looks at Newt, waist occupied by Ben’s arm. It’s moments like these when Minho longs for a hand to hold or a pair of lips to kiss his own. It’s just the desire of love and he feels so pathetic for wishing, for hoping it would come one day.

But when they finally reach the mansion’s front door Minho shoos away his burdensome thoughts as all of them scramble inside.

Thomas is the first to break the silence. "Do you perhaps have something to eat?“ he asks and Newt smiles softly in return telling him that, "We still have cake“.

 

 

And that’s how all of them end up in Newt’s garden at three in the morning – well, almost all of them, because Gally had fallen asleep on the sofa as soon as they entered the house and Winston hasn’t left the bathroom for quite some time now. And they sit in the grass, delicate leaves tickling their ankles, and eat leftover cake, sweet and heavenly in a night like this. The only light they have is the moon looking down at them and a small lantern with walls of dirty glass.

"Do you,“ Thomas suddenly speaks up and the others look at him, "do you remember that one time in High School when we had to write a script for an act in literature class and Minho ended up being a tree?“ And then Thomas is laughing and Brenda and Newt are joining him, too, and even though the others have no clue about that memory they do as well.

Minho feels his insides go warm by the thought of the memory, but he protests anyway, directing his fork at Thomas. "You were a farmer!“ he shoots back.

Thomas hums. "I was a beautiful farmer.“

"Well, I was a very handsome tree.“

"You were both ugly,“ Brenda deadpans, bursting both of their bubbles.

"Shut up,“ Minho orders, "You were just a supporting role.“

Brenda puts down her fork, eyebrows raised. "Oh, but being a tree isn’t?“

"I was a magical tree!“ Minho protests, but she snorts in return.

"Bullshit. There were just some stickers in the form of stars on you.“

Newt interrups their argument, laughing loudly while clutching his stomach. "Guys calm down!“ he manages in between gasps, "Oh, bloody hell.“

Minho can’t help, but soften his expression when he looks at the blond, eyes crinkled and cheeks flushed from laughing this time.

"What was that script even about?“ Sonya asks then as she stuffs her face with cake, some cream sticking to her left cheek.

Newt shrugs nonchalantly. "It was just a story about some prince getting lost in a forest, but being rescued again," he tells her, laughter dying down, but the grin remaining on his face.

Thomas gasps. "It wasn’t just that! It was so much more! Newt, tell this story with more passion, please.“

And Brenda is fast to agree, nodding her head furiously. "Yeah!" she agrees, "Come on, Newt! Story time!“ she shouts happily, raising her fork.

He looks at them, giggles falling off his red lips and Minho thinks about a possibility to catch them before they disappear in  the night. "Are you being serious right now?“

"Come on, babe, tell us the story.“ This time it’s Ben talking. Minho looks at him lying in the spot next to Newt, eyes already closed, but averts his gaze again.

Sonya then starts clapping excitedly. "Yeah! Story time!“ she shouts along, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them closely, propping her chin onto them.

"I agree," Teresa mumures, leaning her head onto Brenda’s shoulder.

And Alby just says, "Whatever.“ while munching on cake, but Newt gives in anyway.

"Okay, okay!“ he says, shushing them, "I’ll do it.“ And he earns himself a row of cheers in return.

 

Newt starts, "Once upon a time…“ Voice so incredibly soft– "Sorry, I can’t–“ He erupts into giggles.

Thomas groans. "Come on!“ he chides.

And for a moment the blonde just laughs and snickers to himself, but when the protesting cries of his friends increase, he stops. "Alright, quit the whining, y’all.“

And then he starts for real. There is the weak glow of the lantern kissing his face and Minho just can’t avert his eyes when he notices the light of the moon leaving a gleam inside the boy’s hair and eyes. "Once upon a time,“ he starts, "there was prince. He lived with only his father in a big castle with rich gardens and towers attached to it. His mother had died while giving birth to the prince, not being able to bear all of the pain he came with. But exactly thirteen days after the prince’s tenth birthday, the king found himself another wife, marrying her two weeks after their first shared kiss. He claimed it was love at first sight and forgot about his first love, the prince’s real mother.“ Minho smiles, memories of this exact same story strewing his heart with bliss and felicity. "However, only eight months into their marriage, the king died. It happened too fast to realize and from one moment to the other the prince found himself alone. His stepmother revealed her true self, her hateful, ignorant and envy core. The prince grew up with her and only the servants and maids in the castle showed him enough love to keep him sane. But still he ran away various nights throughout all those years – not like his stepmother had cared, or let alone even noticed. The prince loved to sleep in the farmer’s barn at night–“

Thomas‘ hushed whispers of, "That was me!“ and, "I was the farmer!“ make Newt halt for a moment and smile, before he carries on again.

"And a lot of days he liked to watch the young woman, living lonely and concealed behind the mountains, fish in the nearby lake, that was hidden behind her old cottage.“

Brenda’s shouts are excited and loud, babbling happily, „That was me!“

"But what the prince loved the most was the forest.“ And in that moment Newt looks at Minho and suddenly his fingertips prickle, heart itching absurdly. It’s so silly, - so very silly - but he wants to kiss Newt. "He loved the forest by day and by night. He loved climbing the trees and loved watching the deers in the morning hours. And on the night of the prince’s eighteenth birthday he was in the forest again. He walked the ways he has walked so many times before, but with every minute getting closer to midnight, the branches started changing and the ways twisted. And when the prince heard the churche’s bell ring twelve times, he wanted to turn around, but suddenly he couldn’t recognize the trees surrounding him anymore. So he kept walking in hope of finding an exit and after an hour of complete darkness he suddenly saw small specks of light appear in the distance.“

Thomas snorts then. He knows exactly what comes next in the story and Minho just glares at him.

"There was a big tree,“ Newt continues, "a tree taller than each the prince had ever seen before and stars attached to the thick stem. The prince was in awe–“ Minho knows it‘s ridiculous, but he actually feels his face heat up at Newt’s words. He blames it on the alcohol, though. "And in the next second he heard a sweet voice call out for him. A beautiful woman appeared and welcomed the prince. He didn’t know her, but his name rolled off her tongue as if they were familiar with each other, as if she had known him all her life. She told him she had waited for him for a long, long time already–“

Sonya gasps. "Oh my god! Is she–“ But before another word can leave her lips Alby interrups her, loudly cursing, "Be quiet! I wanna hear the story.“

Newt however keeps talking. "The prince was confused, understanding her words, but not the meaning behind them. He told the beautiful woman that he had gotten lost and didn’t know where to go, but she told him he was right where he needed to be – she told the prince he was finally home. But he didn’t understand. He told her his home was in the castle on top of the hill, in his bed with clean sheets and doors made of glass leading to the balcony he liked to sit on in the evening. The woman however shook her head. She took the prince’s hands inside her own and when he looked at her, he could see himself. The trees around them turned into tall columns and their leaves formed a roof made of brilliant diamonds. Only the tree with its coat of stars kept standing still on the same small space, the roots growing like waves beneath the prince’s feet. It’s leaves died in a matter of seconds, falling off the branches, burrying the prince’s shoes under them and getting caught in his hair. The woman told him about each year she had waited for him to come back and each season she had watched him grow. And when she kissed his forehead the leaves on the ground turned into flowers and the moon disappeared as the prince closed his eyes. She whispered into his ear, she told him to seek for happiness. She also said, she would be always there with him – every leave of grass was her every bone and every flower the flesh of her shell. When it would rain she would cry for the prince to return and every time the snow would fall she would kiss him through each snowflake until summer came back. She would be always by his side, just like from the start, because this is what she promised him and herself, before giving birth to him.“

A pause and then–

"That’s it?!“ Alby asks, clearly sounding offended and expecting more to come.

But Newt nods. "That’s it,“ he responds casually, lips pursed.

Teresa looks amazed. "Holy shit! His mother was there with him the whole time – like, he thought he was alone all the time, but she had always been with him! I mean, this, this is so awesome,“ she rambles, falling onto her back and sinking into the blanket of grass and green.

Sonya on the other hand sniffles, making Newt’s eyes widen. He scrambles over to her, hugging her tightly when she starts to sniffle louder and he just laughs softly. "I am sorry," she slurs, "this is just great and I am,“ a hiccup follows, "I am so drunk.“

Alby looks still frustrated, but unaffected. "So who played the prince?“ he asks.

Newt smiles. "Some kid called Zart.“

"More like fart.“

"He was very nice and also perfectly fit the role, Tommy´,“ Newt mumbles, "It was his passion–“

But Brenda chides in, "Shut up, Newt. We all know you were made for this role.“

"I would’ve guessed for it to be Newt, too, to be honest," Teresa admits and Newt shakes his head.

"You’re all stupid," he murmures, staring off into nothing, "Zart was great.“

Brenda, however, doesn’t give in. "You were better,“ she presses and suddenly the blond flushes, the tips of his ears tinted a pretty shade of pink. Minho feels a swarm of butterflies bewitch his senses, stupid butterflies!

Thomas nods. "True,“ he agrees, "Also, because of him we couldn’t end the story with the prince and the magical tree marrying eachother.“

Newt snorts. "Because that would’ve probably been the most ugly ending ever.“

"It wouldn’t,“ Brenda protests immediately, "we had this planned so well, but then you became the narrator and we had to give up our idea.“

Minho narrows his eyes in confusion and so does Newt. "Okay, who is 'we‘ and what the bloody hell were you planning?“

"We – Thomas, Harriet and I! We planned, that the prince would open his eyes at the end and find himself in his bed again. He feels like super sad, because he thinks it was all just a dream, but when he runs through the forest again, he finds this tall ass tree,“ she says excitedly, pointing at Minho, "and he’s like 'What? This looks like the tree out of my dream, just uglier and without stars‘ and so he like kisses the tree, because why not, right? It reminds him of his mother.“ Minho’s eyes widen, cheeks burning. "And suddenly magical shit happens and the tree turns into a beautiful boy, who would sadly be played by a not so beautiful boy–“ Minho glares at her. "And they fall in love and live happily ever after.“

Newt looks flustered. "Why would the tree turn into a boy though?“

Brenda shrugs, but still answers, "It’s his mother’s present for him.“ And Newt just says, "That‘s so stupid.“

"It is not!“ Now Thomas is the one to protest loudly.

And then suddenly Alby speaks up as well, "That’s actually a pretty nice idea,“ is what he says and Newt’s expression is so confused when he looks at the dark skinned boy, "yeah, the boy could be like some sort of guardian watching over the prince and fill up the holes with that kind of love his mother can’t give to him.“ And it’s Minho’s ears‘ turn to paint themselves red now.

"So basically sex,“ Teresa bluntly comments and Minho starts squirming.

Sonya hugs Newt tighter. "That is such a wonderful idea!“ she praises happily.

"Doesn’t answer the question why it had to be me, who plays the prince, though. Zart could’ve just kissed Minho and the story would be the same. Ya didn’t have to give up your plans.“

And then finally Minho speaks up, "There is no way I would’ve kissed that guy,“ he comments and Newt looks at him and it’s almost as if he’s asking him 'But you would’ve kissed me, slinthead?‘ and Minho nervously adds, "He smells like onions and paprica.“

"What’s the problem? You like paprica,“ Newt states.

But Brenda butts in again, „Not the point,“ she says, "it just wouldn’t have been perfect with Zart as the prince.“

And Newt gives in. "Whatever you say.“

 

 

Soon they notice Ben is already asleep, breathing evenly while the grass prints patterns onto his cheek, and they carry him inside. Minho’s heart clutches when he sees Newt running his slender fingers through Ben’s hair, ruffling it, before they leave to sit outside again – this time on the chairs of the terrace.

Only Teresa, Thomas, Minho and Newt are left. Alby and Brenda decided to hit the matress and Newt recommended Sonya to do the same – she almost screamed when she turned on the bathroom lights just to see Winston sleeping on the floor with his face flat against the mat.

It is much more quiet now, time irrelevant as the four of them talk in hushed voices.  
  
"And you know eachother for how long?“ Thomas asks, gaze wandering between Teresa and Newt.

"I think it must’ve been since primary school," Teresa utters, smiling at the blond next to her, "he was my first friend – together with Alby. I was actually thinking I was becoming delusional when he sat inside my biology class last year and the teacher adressed him as Isaac.“

Newt laughs at that, it’s breathy and light. "I didn’t even know it was you. You have gotten too beautiful to recognize.“

She hits his shoulder playfully. "You’re terrible," she murmures, but the blush rising on her cheeks tells a different story.

"I am apparently not terrible enough – you wrote me letters for about a year when I left for America.“

"Yeah,“ Teresa admits, "and then I stopped, because the letters always needed weeks to arrive. It wasn’t like back then when I just wrote a letter to throw it inside your mailbox and you would lay a letter for me on top of the doormat just twenty minutes later.“

"This whole distance shit sucks,“ Minho adds suddenly, but the sad look that appears on Newt’s face makes him wish he didn’t.

"It does,“ Teresa agrees, "but that’s just how it is. America and England are damn far away from eachother, but that shouldn’t matter in a friendship.“

Thomas nods also, but the sigh that leaves his lips lingers in the air like smoke of an open fire. "It’s hard to ignore. Even harder when you just need your friend beside you – when you can’t just take the bus to visit them.“ Minho’s heart aches, it hurts so bad and burns his insides, and each word carves itself inside his mind.

"Let’s just not talk about this, yeah?“ And Minho hates the soft crack in Newt’s voice. He thinks about kissing his lips to make him smile – why can’t he just kiss him? Why does he want to so much anyway?

Teresa’s smile is apologetic and understanding. "I think we should go to sleep as well, anyway,“ she announces before standing up, tousling Newt’s hair when she wishes them all a good night before disappearing.

Thomas huffs a breath, eyebrows up high. "So three lonely wolves left, huh?“

Minho looks blankly at him. "Get your ugly ass into bed already,“ he tells him and Thomas is quick to rise from his seat, following after Teresa with a rushed "Yeah, right!“ and, "Good night!“ while Newt just says, "Good night, Tommy.“ in return and, "II’m glad you’re here today.“

And then Minho is with Newt, all alone, and it’s so crazy how desperately he had wished for that.

 

"Aren’t you tired, too?“ Newt asks him then and their eyes meet.

Minho leans back in his chair. "I am afraid, that if I fall asleep, I will miss out more on you," he admits, lazy gaze trained on the blond in front of him.

"Hey, we skyped a lot though. It’s not like we were completely unaware of what was going on with the other," Newt argues, but his voice isn’t harsh – it’s smooth like hot chocolate and soft like a short shudder of drizzle in summer.

"I was unaware, Newt,“ Minho answers firmly, "I had no clue about all the shit you went through.“

"I’m still alive though, aren’t I?“

Minho’s gaze bores into Newt’s. "Being alive shouldn’t only consist of trying to survive,“ he whispers and Newt’s gaze drops to his own lap.

"Who says I’m just trying to survive?“ he asks, weakly, mellow.

But Minho shoots a question right back at him. "Are you telling me, you’re enjoying life to the fullest?“

And that’s when Newt’s gaze meets his again – this time there is a flame in between them. "Are you trying to make me question my good times?" The blond squints at him. "Minho, I am fucking fine.“

He sits up straight. "I just want you to be happy!“ he tells the blond and he means it – he really means it.

"It doesn’t work like this!“ Newt throws the words back at him and they hit Minho’s head, setting off a sharp pain in the back of his skull.

"What do you mean?“ he asks, and their volume just gets higher each second.

Newt’s eyes fill with storms. "You can’t just appear and tell me, you want me to be happy!“

"I don’t see what is wrong with that!“

"You have no clue about all of this!“ It's the moment Minho finally shuts up, eyes fixed on the frustrated blond. "I mean we have seen eachother once throughout a whole year and there is too much happening that you can’t just know about and you can’t do anything about it, Minho. You aren’t able to change a single thing to the better. You’re thousands of miles away from me and when my bloody step brother decides to beat me up you can’t just take a flight to England. When I choose to hurt myself you’re not able to stop me. You can’t make my dad talk to me again. You can’t, Minho.“

The daggers inside Minho’s heart twist and turn, creating scenarios that are best described in novels – in heartbreaking poems or cheesy love songs.

His voice trembles when he utters, "You fucking idiot.“

And Newt just looks confused, asking him, „What?“, making Minho repeat his words another time.

"You’re a fucking idiot,“ he says, lowly and slow.

Newt huffs, tears stinging inside his eyes. "Wow." His exhale is shakily. "Seriously? Are you being serious right now–“

But Minho cuts him off, "Why the fuck are you hurting yourself?“ he asks in return, "don’t do that. Also don’t tell me what I can and what I can’t do.“ His words are so petty, he knows, but they just slip off his lips.

"Just because your life is simple doesn’t mean mine is, as well. This isn’t like some mathematical problem you need to solve.“

Minho rises his eyebrows. "What makes you think my life is simple?“ he asks and Newt’s expression twists comically.

"Oh, come on!" he drawls, "Tell me what bugs you.“

Minho’s face darkens. „My best friend lives across the fucking globe,“ he eventually manages to say, teeth gritted, but Newt’s face stays blank.

"Apart from that," the blond tells him, but Minho shakes his head.

"Why does there need to be something apart from that? It’s what makes my life more difficult and that should be enough of a reason for you to believe that you aren’t the only one with problems.“

"So, I make your life more difficult?“

Minho groans. "I didn’t say that.“

"Look, Minho, I don’t even know if I will ever move back to America, you shouldn’t,“ Newt starts, but Minho is faster again.

"I can move to England anytime,“ he blurts, and immediately the blond’s expression becomes softer.

"Don’t do this to your mother,“ he murmures, voice suddenly soft again.

But the frustration still boils inside the pit of Minho’s stomach. "Newt, do you even realize what sort of shit I would do for you?“

"I don’t want you to do anything for me! I want you to focus on yourself, because you are more important than me. Never put anyone but yourself first, Min, promise me this.“

And he wants to say, "But I–“ I love you.

"Promise me.“

"I promise you.“

But it never leaves his lips.

"Good.“

"You’re still an idiot. I can’t believe you’re such an idiot.“

"I am so sorry.“

And Newt doesn’t have to say more, Minho understands.

"You will always be worth more than people try to tell you you are.“

And Minho doesn’t have to continue, because Newt knows.

 

  
And the last few hours of the night Newt and Minho fall asleep on one of the mattresses, that are planted across the carpet of the big living room. Newt’s head lays against Minho’s chest and their legs are entangled. Minho knows he has to go when the sun rises, but he also knows it won’t be their last sunrise together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _La li la di dada la li da_
> 
> **이대로** **보내기는** **아쉬우니까**  
>  _idaero bonaegineun aswiunigga  
>  Because I don't wanna let you go like this_
> 
> **이건** **아마** **세상** **가장** **쓸쓸한** **멜로디야**  
>  _igeon ama sesang gajang sseulsseulhan mellodiya  
>  This is the saddest melody in the world_
> 
> _Hey Mr. Airplane_

 

In the morning, nine o‘ clock, Thomas‘ voice suddenly tears Minho’s dreams apart, creating the tear in a film and making him moan quietly in discomfort. He tells Minho they need to leave, need to catch their flight back.

Minho is so close to yell at the brunet, because, no, he doesn’t want to leave. And when he opens his eyes, cracking open his drooping eyelids, he looks directly at Newt’s face, features peaceful and so close – Minho’s stomach spins in circles.

"Just get ready,“ he manages to utter eventually, voice raspy, "I’ll be there any minute.“

And the smile Thomas directs at him is sad and pitiful, but Minho doesn’t notice and even if he did, he’d be too afraid his eyes would give away it all - give away the constant painful jolts inside his racing heart, the hot tears that welled up in the night hours just by thinking of letting go of Newt again. His eyes could tell Thomas about the way his fingertips had traced Newt’s cheeks when he was sure the blond was already asleep - his eyes could become too loud, and it’s a risk he won’t take.

But then Thomas sighs and Minho hears him leaving the living room again, starting to whisper in a hushed voice to Brenda and Winston when he comes to a halt in the corridor of the house. The rest of the mansion is quiet, however, and Minho is certain, they are the only ones awake currently.

He gazes at the blond, gentle expression painting his face as he brushes a single strand out of the boy’s eyes, making him hum softly in return.

"Newt,“ Minho murmures then. He doesn’t want to wake him up, he really doesn’t, but he also can’t leave him behind without a rightful goodbye – not again. "Newt, we’re leaving.“

And when suddenly Newt’s body rolls closer and his head bumps into Minho’s chest, there are the softest tingles running through Minho’s body.

The blond makes a sound of protest. "Already?“ he asks, and the grief inside his croaking voice somehow shatters Minho’s heart.

He twirls a golden lock around his finger. "Already,“ he utters gently, and another whining sound vibrates against his chest, "It’s the cheapest flight.“

"You haven’t even eaten yet,“ Newt tries to argue and it the words make the corners of Minho's mouth twist slightly upwards.

"I gotta eat at the airport then," he teases the other gingerly, "Also I think Winston packed some cookies.“

Newt’s voice is just above a tired whisper when he protests that, "Cookies aren’t even real food.“ And Minho feels the blond’s hot breath sneak through the material of his shirt.

"Come on, shuckface,“ he presses, smile now visible on his dry lips, "I need to go.“

"Asshole.“

Minho snorts. "You’re by far the sweetest thing this morning.“

Just then Newt finally opens his eyes, lifting himself up groggily as he crosses his legs and simply sits for a moment to eye Minho. His hair is tousled and the cotton of his thin shirt only covers one of his shoulders, the other bare and radiating with warmth, patterns from the sheets like an adornation. Without a warning he flicks a finger at Minho’s forehead, making him yowl comically.

"At least brush your teeth and change your shirt," he eventually mumbles, "You smell.“

Minho raises his eyebrows at him. "This is a manly scent,“ he argues half-heartedly, "Not my problem that you don’t possess that kind of thing.“

His words earn him another sharp flick to the forehead. He hisses, gritting his teeth.

The blond, however, keeps his expression blank. "It’s too early to be talking klunk. Get your lazy ass up.“ 

Minho fakes a pout. "And here I thought you don’t want me to go,“ he teases as Newt rolls his eyes, hidden smile not going completely unnoticed as gets up. Minho smirks to himself, following him hurriedly.

 

It takes him around two minutes to brush his teeth then – Brenda, Winston and Thomas waiting for him in the corridor, suitcases standing by their feet when he finally joins them.

And he is just about to change his shirt when Newt comes down the stairs and he freezes, used shirt in his hand and chest bare.

The blond comes to a halt on the last step of the staircase, shoving a red piece of cotton into Minho’s naked chest. "Take this one,“ he mutters sheepishly and Minho can see the tips of his ears flush a pretty pink when he unfolds the familiar T-shirt.

A grin forms on his lips, eyes raking over Newt's form. "Oh, Newt," he teases lowly, "How do I deserve this?“ He isn’t surprised when the blush spreads across the other's cheeks and neck now, dusting his skin and painting it in the colours of wildroses.

Newt hits his chest weakly, eyes casted downwards as he mumbles quietly, "Just take it. It is for the present you gave me.“

"Oh!“ Minho’s eyebrows raise, "I’m sure it is.“

Newt bites his lip. "Shut up, idiot," he answers, feigning annoyance, "Just put it on – Your nipples don’t need to be the last thing I see of you.“

But Minho just steps closer to his best friend, asking in such painfully teasing way, "Are you sure?“ And when Newt answers, "Very sure,“ he still shuffles closer until he engulfs the blond inside a tight and warm embrace, squeezing his middle and pressing him tightly to his still uncovored chest. Minho is quite sure, Newt’s face is entirely red now as he squirms and whines, the blush deepening until it resembles the blossoming of poppies.

And only when his protests get louder, Minho let’s go. He smiles broadly at the other - and eventually he puts the shirt on, it fitting magically even though it stretches along his back and chest, and also his upper arms. However, the material is smooth against his skin and Minho’s stomach does a few flips and turns.

"Here.“ He gives Newt his own shirt in return, but he doesn’t quite receive the desired reaction.

Instead the blond raises an untouched eyebrow. "This isn’t even washed,“ he deadpans bluntly.

But Minho’s grin doesn’t falter. "You need some masculinity inside your closet.“

"Idiot.“

"Brat.“

Newt sighs. "You’re terrible.“ Minho knows he doesn't quite mean the words he says - his still present flush gives it away. 

So, Minho opens his arms, welcoming Newt with a tender "Just come here and say goodbye like you mean it, shank.“ And Newt actually falls into him, their bodies melting against one another as they are folded within the other. Minho wraps the other up in warmth, the honey hair tickling his chin and nose as slender fingers grip the material of his (or Newt's?) shirt. He holds close onto him, but the moment flees and escapes before Minho can reach for it.

Brenda rushes past Minho and is quick to hug Newt the next, hastily wiping a single tear from her cheek. "Gosh, I will miss you!“ she wails loudly and Newt just says, "I will miss you, too, Bren.“ And as a tender smile forms on his sweet cherry lips, she starts to ramble on protectively, like, "Always make sure to drink water!“ and "Don’t overwork yourself too much again!“

Winston has to take her hand then in order to make her calm down, but even he doesn’t really want to let go when it comes to saying goodbye to the blond.

And Thomas doesn’t even try to hide his frown.

"Hey, come on,“ Newt nudges him softly, a small, but cheerful smile on his lips, "Don’t look at me like that, Tommy.“

And, yes, Newt smiles, but when Thomas hugs tight, so very tight, the corners of his mouth seem to twist for the part of a second.

"I’ll make sure to send you a bunch of letters and call each week.“

And Newt eyes turn into crescents when he answers with the softest, "Great plan.“

 

 

And it’s not like in the movies, but that’s how they leave. A taxi takes them to the airport and Newt’s gentle voice telling them to "Have a safe flight" and to "Always take care" plays inside Minho’s mind over and over, repeating itself like a broken record and it makes his heart hurt so much, but he tells himself it won’t last forever – nothing does, anyway, right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **잠깐** **멈춰봐** **비가** **오잖아**  
>  _jamggan meomchweobwa biga ojanha  
>  Stop for a moment, it's raining_
> 
> **바람** **불잖아** **지금** **가면** **위험하니까**  
>  _baram buljanha jigeum gamyeon wiheomhanigga  
>  The wind is blowing, it'll be dangerous if you go now_
> 
> _Hey Mr. Airplane_

 

As if the clouds had been watching them, they start to shed bittersweet tears the moment Minho exits the airport. The heavy rain patters onto the streets and hammers against the glass of Minho’s windows, fast clattering sounds filling the silence inside his room. He avoids his parents‘ questions about Newt.

His stomach hurts and when he hits the mattress of his bed with a grunt, he exhales the few broken bits of hurt inside his lungs. For hours nothing happens and only at night he receives a message with a tiny 'bling‘. It’s from Newt and Minho feels pathetic for letting a few salty tears escape, wreminding him of the ocean separating the both of them.

 

 

The first time Minho hears Newt’s voice finally again is a week after the visit. Newt can’t sleep, so Minho takes his time and talks him into sleep.

 

 

The first time Minho sees Newt’s face on his laptop screen again is two weeks after the visit, but Newt isn’t alone – well, at first he is, but after about ten minutes Ben pops up on the screen, as well. Minho wants to roll his eyes when he sneaks up behind Newt, making him squeak in surprise as he wraps his arms around his waist tightly. The smile on Minho’s face dies when they kiss and Newt giggles, hitting his boyfriend playfully.

The video call ends awkwardly. Minho tells Newt he has to go grocery shopping anyway, but when he closes his laptop, it’s not exactly his plan. Instead he goes for a run, clearing his head on his own way. And it starts raining again and Minho knows his mother would’ve told him to take care before he gets sick, but he doesn’t stop running, doesn't seem to even be able to do so, because he hopes, he really hopes, the sky’s many small teardrops can cool down his thoughts by chance; but instead they just remind him of his own.

 

Minho’s parents aren’t home when he gets back luckily, but there is Brenda sitting on his porch, her short hair wet from the rain.

"Do you need anything?“ he asks casually when he eventually comes to a halt in front of her, his own skin glistening with sweat and the raindrops caught in his short black hair making their way along the back of his neck.

"Hello to you, too,“ she offers sarcastically, not even intending to answer his question.

Minho keeps letting the rain caress his body, the wet weighing down his shirt. "Yeah, yeah.“ He waves her off. "Come on, what is it?“

"First of all, your sweat is disgusting me.“ Minho rolls his eyes at her words. "And secondly, how about inviting me in, asshole?“

"I just came from a run,“ he argues stubbornly, "I wanna shower and die peacefully on the sofa, is that too much to ask for?“

"Stop whining and open the door.“

 

 

So, that is exactly how Brenda ends up in Minho’s kitchen, while he is in the shower. She makes both of them a cup of coffee and when Minho joins her at the dining table there is a bitter aroma filling the air. His damp hair falls flatly against his forehead, all of his attention trained on Brenda.

It is quiet for a moment. Minho's brows are raised expectantly, but the other is pretty successful in avoiding his burning stare, facing every direction but his. "Now," he clears his throat and notices her tensing just the slightest bit, "what brings you here?“ he eventually asks, hands wrapping around the steaming cup, his fingertips growing hot.

Brenda now looks at the coffee machine standing on the kitchen counter. "You really need to fix that thing some time.“

"When I move out I’ll get a new one anyway.“ He shrugs once. "But don’t even try to change the subject.“

And that’s when Brenda sighs, long and heavy as her gaze drops to her lap. "I just-" The next exhale is heavy as well, but a lot more shakier. "I have a problem,“ she admits.

Minho follows suit and sighs. "Great.“

"Don’t be an asshole!" she exclaims, brows narrowed now, "I need your help!“

He rolls his eyes once. "What is it, Bren?“ he asks and the tint of gentleness makes Brenda look more hopeful all at sudden.

She purses her lips and Minho isn't prepared at all when she tells him that, "It’s about my sexuality.“

For a moment it is quiet, the awkward silence hovering above their heads like a dark and foamy cloud. Confused wrinkles dance across Minho’s forehead and eventually he has to clear his throat once more before he is able to clear his mind. "Why," he starts off, "Why do you think it’s a good idea to talk to me about that? Thomas is the gay one.“

"I know," she replies, rolling her eyes at him, "But he isn’t currently questioning his sexuality, you know? He’s already sure of it," she reasons as if it’s the most obvious thing, as if she’s looking at the sun and telling Minho it’s hot.

He keeps a blank expression. "Actually, no,“ he says, "I don’t know. What has that to do with me?“

More blatancy is about to come when she tells him, that, "You are obviously discovering the gay side at the moment, Minho!“ And he chokes on his own spit, coughing violently, before his eyebrows furrow and he raises his voice, because, "What the fuck! No, I’m not!“

Brenda smiles, unfazed, so fucking unfazed and it comes off almost taunting to Minho. "Aw, come on!“ she singsongs cheerfully all of sudden, "I saw the way you practically dry humped Newt each time by just looking at him.“

"Brenda, I swear–“

"Thomas saw it, too! I mean, it’s okay, Minho. Really! You know we support you no matter what, but–“

Minho frowns. "What?“

"But Newt has a boyfriend and I know this must be hard for you–“

Just then he loses his temper. "Brenda, just fucking come to the point!“ he orders, face about to flush red.

"Oh, yeah, right,“ she mutters, putting the rim of her mug to her lips as her next words drown almost drown inside the bitter black brew, "So, I think I’m gay," she confesses, "I kinda kissed Teresa on Newt’s birthday.“

Minho tries to look surprised, but it’s more surprising that he’s not. "Can you define 'kinda kissed‘?“

She sips from her coffee, creating an annoying slurping sound. "We made out for like-“ For a moment she looks like she’s thinking about the correct answer, but then she adds, "Ten minutes.“

"Isn’t that like proof enough that you’re gay?“ 

"Do tomatoes need to be sweet just because they’re considered fruits?“ she shoots back and Minho feels the irritation gnawing at him once again.

He furrows his brows. "What? This makes no sense–“

She interrups him. "Fact is, I have never wanted to date a girl so desperately before.“

"So, why don’t you just date her then?“

"Is this fucking Paradise?“

"Okay, okay.“ Minho takes a careful sip of his own hot coffee – it’s black and it’s bitter. "I know she lives in England–“

"And not just that!“ Brenda wails loudly, "What if I was just an experiment to her? What if she regrets it?" she asks not only him but herself, the doubt visible on her face, visible in her wide questioning eyes, "We haven’t talked about it afterwards.“ 

Minho sighs. "Okay," he begins patiently, "You’re being dramatic right now–“ And this time Brenda’s palm hitting his chest harshly shuts him up as he yelps in a mixture of shock and pain.

"Please,“ she beggs, voice drenching with despair, "I’m begging you, Minho – please, take me serious for once.“

"I always take you–“ But he stops midsentence when he sees the look in her eyes. "Okay, listen," he starts for another time, trying his best to offer her the comfort she actually needs, "There is like seriously no reason for you to worry about. You know your parents will support you no matter what and so will your friends. And I’m also certain you weren’t just an experiment to her – I mean, maybe she’s just scared of being a lesbian.“

Brenda rolls her eyes. "That sounds stupid.“

"But there is no way she would just snog you for a solid ten minutes without taking even a slight interest in you.“

And when a hopeful small twinkle appears in her eyes she asks, "Are you sure?“ And Minho only nods, telling her, "Very sure,“ and making the corners of her mouth turn slightly upwards.

„But even if you’re right – she still lives like thousands of miles away.“

Minho sips from his coffee, the bitterness tasting almost sweet compared to the words rolling off his tongue next. „4150 miles to be exact.“ he tells her and she looks confused for a second.

„Did you calculate that?“ she asks and the look on her face makes Minho question his sanity.

He becomes more quiet. „I searched it up on the internet – So yeah, I did.“

And when she smiles at him, he despises the broken pieces of pity being offered to him. That’s why he says: „Don’t look at me like that. I was just curious.“

„I’m not judging you, but you know you can always talk to me, right?“ her voice is soft and so is her expression, but Minho dislikes it – he doesn’t need anybody’s sympathy. He won’t allow himself to beg for a helping hand or an ear to listen to him – he won’t allow any compassion. It’s silly anyways – just a phase, right? Everything is.

That’s why tells her: „Only girls do that.“

„Actually I think every human being is capable of having feelings and possessing the ability to talk about them.“

Minho shakes his head, gaze dropping to the black liquid inside his mug. „Some people don’t like to do that kind of emotional klunk, you know?“

But he doesn’t expect Brenda to explode just then, her flat palm hitting the table with a loud smack. „Just stop trying to prove that you’re some kind of cold hearted bad ass and –“ an open fire glows beneath her eyes, „open up for once!“

Minho grits his teeth, growling. „Look, I’m not trying to prove anything–“

But she just cuts him off, the heat rising in between them. „Yes you are!“ she argues, „You are in fact just doing that, Minho! And it doesn’t matter if you’re a guy, because even boys feel the need to let go of some shit that bugs them sometimes. Don’t try to tell me otherwise.“

„Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were such an expert.“ he sneers and he knows he’s probably not being fair, but how dare she give him shit like that on a day like this?

„You know who came to me and cried?“ her eyes are piercing and Minho feels like she is challenging him to withstand, „Thomas.“ the answer drops like a hot coal, „When Newt had to leave America, Thomas came to me and cried. He was feeling like shit and came to me to talk about it. So don’t you tell me guys don’t want to talk about their problems just because they’re – guys!“

„It is Thomas.“ Minho knows he has no right to talk like this, but he does anyway.

The fire inside her eyes never dies. „Ah? And what about Newt?“ and that’s the final punch – it hits Minho in the guts, shouts of victory taunting the Asian male.

He tenses. „What about Newt?“ he asks, aghast.

„Newt still comes to me to talk about his problems.“ she tells him and Minho isn’t sure what this storm inside his stomach means, but it sets off another one inside his mind, raging with an incredible might.

„What do you mean?“

But this time Brenda doesn’t answer.

„Brenda, what are you talking about?“ he presses unruly.

She looks at him unimpressed still. „I don’t talk about problems my friends want me to keep secret.“ she hisses and the way it escapes her throat is dangerous.

„He is my best friend, for fuck’s sake! I have the right to know about it!“

Minho is yelling, but Brenda yells right back at him. „Being his best friend doesn’t give you any special right!“ she tells him, „If he would’ve wanted to talk to you about it, he would’ve done it by now. You probably know about all that stuff anyway.“

And it’s slightly confusing, but Minho just can’t let go. „What stuff, Brenda?“ he asks.

And she says: „About his problems.“ and he asks again: „What problems?“, but she starts yelling again.

Because „I told you I won’t tell you!“

„Don’t be so fucking confusing and just tell me what the fuck you both talked about!“

„No!“

„Brenda!“

And then Brenda is standing up, towering over the other. „Stop yelling at me and calm the fuck down, Minho!“ she orders loudly, but he yells that „This is about Newt!“

What comes next, however, is something Minho can’t fight. It comes unforseen and it smacks the oxygen violently out of his lungs – the final knockout blow. „So? Yeah it is. But when he was still here you didn’t care about that.“

He is quiet and Brenda knows so well that she has him right where she wants him to be – on his knees.

„We all knew he went through some pretty fucked up stuff and yet you couldn’t be there for him once.“ she continues and Minho wants to yell at her to shut up – shut up! – but he listens, „He came to me so many times back then, because all you could offer was a clap on the back and a ‚Don’t worry, bro‘.“ the shame starts to bubble inside the pit of Minho’s stomach and he wants to throw up every bit of guilt left in him, „He went through so many shit and you know what? You know what I did?“ there is that flame inside her eyes again and Minho wants to tell her, no, he doesn’t want to know, but he listens, „I told him he should just forget about you. He should just rely on Thomas and me and everything would turn out just fine. I know what I did was not okay, but I couldn’t watch him getting more hurt because of you. That wasn’t fair, Minho. Life isn’t fair.“

When she gets quiet again, Minho searches for something to clear the bitterness dusting his heart.

He asks: „How many times?“ and she asks: „What?“ and Minho asks again, more directly: „How many times did he come to you?“ and that’s when she says: „I couldn’t count them on even two hands if I wanted to.“

Minho world crumbles, the pieces falling to his feet – ashes left and pitiful illusions of a happy past.

„However, he still believed in you.“ Brenda mutters eventually and Minho raises his head, frown on his face, „It’s true. He still saw you as the greatest person alive no matter how much of an asshole you were.“

„I don’t understand–“

„I didn’t understand it either.“ she says, „All I know is that you are one lucky asshole and that I will probably hurt you this time if you pull this shit on him again.“

Minho thinks it’s time to tell her, tell her that – that–

„Brenda, I swear I care about him so much–“

She cuts him off. „I don’t care what you tell me. I want you to act like it.“

And he nods, eyes searching for only a tiny bit of understanding. „I know and you’re right. You were also right about that whole asshole part, too, and I fucking regret all of it, alright?“ he tells her, he wants to tell her– „I want you to know that I regret all of it and – and I just hate all of this! I mean, this is all I never was! I’ve never been romantic or a great best friend and I know that everybody hates me for that–“

Suddenly the fire inside her eyes is gone and it’s replaced by calming waves – a gentleness consisting of the ocean. „Nobody hates you, Minho.“ she says, her palm laying to rest on the back of his hand.

„But I hate myself!“ he blurts out, „I hate myself for being so slow and so fucking late.“ and when her eyes narrow in confusion he weakly adds: „I just hate everything, Bren.“

„What do you hate?“ she asks, clearly not understanding the puzzle pieces Minho is placing in front of her.

„Just–“ he sighs, heavely, „everything.“

„Come on, Minho. Open up.“

And he tells her that – he finally tells her that –

„I just hate being head over heels for my best friend, okay?“

Minho doesn’t dare to look her in the eyes, trying desperately to hide the poor feelings seeping from the cracks he just opened.

Her thumb caresses his skin. „I know.“ it’s all she says, but Minho thinks it’s enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **잠깐** **멈춰봐** **시간** **많잖아**  
>  _jamggan meomchweobwa sigan manhjanha  
>  Stop for a moment, there's a lot of time_
> 
> **내일도** **있잖아** **그녀를** **내려줘**  
>  _naeildo itjanha geunyeoreul naeryeojweo  
>  There's tomorrow too so let her come off_
> 
> **아님** **나도** **태워줘**  
>  _anim nado taeweojweo  
>  or let me get on_

 

By the end of July Minho graduates from High School along with Thomas, Winston and Brenda. They celebrate it with a bottle of sparkling wine and several tubs of ice cream at Winston’s place. Later Frypan, Hariett and some others join as well, but Minho can’t help but wish Newt was there with them, too.

 

 

Minho is awarded a scholarship for a great sports university in Columbia, South Carolina, in August and the first one to share his excitement with is Newt. The university is about four hours and 200 miles away and that’s why he finds himself an apartment in Edgefield, 160 miles away from his home in Atlanta. He is quick to pack his belongings, kiss his mother’s forehead and embrace his father’s presence before he leaves to another state.

Thomas and Brenda are the first to see the barren walls and empty rooms of Minho’s new home – it looks way better after they bring a paint bucket and Winston for their second visit.

 

 

On September 8th Minho shows his apartment to Newt – well, he tries.

 

„And here’s my bed.“ he announces proudly, turning his laptop in circles for the blond to see the lonely mattress in the middle of the room.

Newt chuckles. „Do you even fit in that? It looks so small.“ he says and Minho observes it thoughtfully.

„I’ve slept on this old thing for a few nights now – my toes jut out, but that’s alright.“

Now Newt is laughing. „As long as your blanket isn’t short it surely is.“

Minho smiles at the screen, plopping himself down on the thick mattress. „You will have to see that yourself one day then.“ he murmures, making Newt release another few bubbles of laughter.

Then his laughs die down, vanishing into shallow breaths. „I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything for the next months, though.“ he mutters, voice growing small all at sudden, shrinking miserably and Minho feels an alarm ticking inside of him.

„Why?“ he asks, eyes turning gentle.

Newt sighs and Minho watches him fiddle with the hem of his grey sweater absentmindedly. „Mom will marry Andrew.“ he says.

Minho is silent then – until Newt lifts his gaze and they are looking at eachother. He clears his throat, hearing the words dance on his lips that „It won’t affect you in any way, right?“

And Newt says: „Not directly. They want me to accept his last name, but I’d be bloody retarded to do that.“ and Minho just chuckles.

„What about Bryan though?“

The blond huffs. „There is no way in this world I’d call him my brother.“ he murmures, „But he moved out already anyway. Left last month to go to Denmark or something like that.“

Minho grins playfully. „Must be lonely without him, huh?“

„It’s bloody heaven! But I’ll be gone next month hopefully as well so I don’t have to worry about that much.“

Minho’s eyebrows raise when he asks: „Found yourself a flat?“ and they stay that way when Newt blushes slightly and tells him: „Ben’s flat.“

It’s like a single dagger colliding with his heart, a firm impact thrusting through the walls of his built shelter. It’s not heartbreak, but close. It’s not love crying silently in the corners of his mind, but it’s a broken piece of hope reminding him that this is what he has to face. It’s what he deserves for not being fast enough, for missing the time and breaking all clocks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **하루만** **한** **시간만** **딱** **일** **분만**  
>  _haruman han siganman ddak il bunman  
>  Just one more day, just one more hour, just one more minute_

 

September is cruel to Minho. It’s cold and rainy, wind whipping and smacking every bit of hope out of his tired body. He’s lonely most of days, because, yeah, the people he meets at university are alright, but they aren’t Brenda nor Thomas or Winston. And visiting his three friends means paying for train tickets, means spending money he should save for food.

And then when one evening, 6 PM, Minho’s phone rings he hopes for it to be Newt, but it’s not and usually that wouldn’t scare him, but when it’s Teresa instead he can’t help the panic boiling inside his veins.

 

„Minho?“ her voice rings from the other end of the line and she sounds so distant and Minho’s feels strange talking to her.

He clears his throat. „Yeah?“

„Here’s Teresa.“ she says, „I’m calling because of Newt.“, and that’s when Minho’s heart misses a beat, „He probably won’t be able to call you in the near future. He just told me to tell you–“

Minho cuts her off. „What is wrong?“ he asks and then the line goes silent for a moment.

Teresa sighs. „He just struggles a bit with all the different lectures at university and his mother planning her wedding. It’s nothing to worry about.“

Minho believes her nothing, every word passing her lips a lie. So he says: „If it’d be just that he’d tell me personally.“, but Teresa tells him: „I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault if you don’t believe me. I was just told to inform you.“ and Minho nearly loses his mind when the line goes dead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **한마디만** **하게**  
>  _hanmadiman hage  
>  just wanna say one thing_
> 
> _Hey Mr. Airplane_
> 
> **잠깐** **멈춰봐**  
>  _jamggan meomchweobwa  
>  Stop for a moment_

 

At first he tries to contact Newt anyway, but when it’s almost two months without a response something small dies inside of him – it just kind of disappears, but he has the feeling it was important.

Minho loses his mind from day to day a little bit more and it’s all not fair – nothing is fair. Because he knows that Teresa’s words have only been a row of illusions, trying to deceive him. Because Newt is gone without a single world and it’s all just really not fair. It’s not fair, because while Newt probably has panic attacks Minho sits inside his empty apartment, miles away and an ocean sleeping peacefully in between. Because Newt could be crying and Minho wouldn’t know about it. Because Newt is so fucking unreachable and Minho can’t do a single thing about it.

 

 

Minho loses his mind – he feels like it’s playing tricks on him when on a Sunday in November the bell of his apartment rings all of sudden. It’s already evening and Minho curses his heater for not working properly, but when he opens the front door his body radiates with warmth itself. His eyes widen comically and his mouth falls agape – shooting stars lighting up the darkness inside his head and falling like comets into the pit of his stomach.

It’s Newt.

 

„Can I come in?“ he asks and for a moment longer Minho just stares him down, eyes caressing every spot of his body – his flushed cheeks and pink nose, damp hair and deep red lips – but then he nods, opening the door wider for the blond to come in.

He steps inside, head lowered and shoes leaving a trail of snow. Minho takes his jacket carefully, unwrapping the slim boy, eyes raking over his slender built and fair skin.

„Do you want a tea?“ Minho asks softly and when Newt nods, he leaves for the humble, fitted kitchen of his apartment. Usually he doesn’t drink tea, but Winston bought him a pot of different flavours and since then it stands lonely in the corner of his cupboard and he knows Newt loves tea so he just uses it to his advantage.

His mind is running in circles when he stands in front of the electric kettle and lets it work, seething and fizzling. Newt is meters away from him, inside his apartment, and Minho’s fingers tremble the slightest, putting the tea bag inside the steaming, filled mug and watching it be swallowed by burning water. He is releaved to have the blond here, but yet so fucking nervous.

After three minutes he takes out the tea bag and dumps it inside the sink. Two fingers curl around the handle of the mug and the heat makes him grit his teeth as he walks to the living room, socks making him slither the slightest.

When he spots Newt his heart begins to swell, seemingly growing inside his chest and painfully rearing. The blond sits on his couch – it’s not nearly as rich or comfortable as the one he probably has at home in England, but it’s all Minho could afford – and lets his gaze travel curiously around the painted, blue walls. Minho thinks about coming home to Newt, about them eating dinner together and talking about their day.

 

„Here.“ he hands Newt the mug and the boy smiles weakly in return, fingertips brushing against Minho‘s, creating soft tingles.

„Thank you.“

It’s quiet between them and Minho thinks he can yet still hear the boiling of the water heater, silently inside his kitchen. He sits down next to the blond, but keeps a good distance, because he doesn’t seem to trust the silence – neither the dark shadows under Newt’s tired eyes.

But he can’t contain it any longer – even the snowflakes hitting his windows seem to become unbearably loud – and that’s why he speaks up, eyes focused on the corners of Newt’s tempting mouth.

He asks: „What happened?“ and he knows by the look of Newt’s eyebrows drawing together that he’s hit the bullseye.

Wonder engulfs Minho’s mind when Newt tells him straight away, placing his mug carefully on the tiny coffee table. „Ben broke up with me.“ it’s croaked, it’s quiet and it’s making Minho’s stomach fill with a thousand hurricanes.

„I’m sorry.“ and he is, because all Minho had ever wanted is for Newt to be happy – because Newt deserves to feel worth something. He is sorry, because Newt is worth Minho’s whole world and he hates to see it crumbling.

Newt smiles weakly at him. „You don’t need to be.“ he says, „I knew it was too good to be true. It was a bloody dream to believe he’d be able to cope with my problems.“ Newt exhales loudly, „I was so fucking stupid.“

„Don’t say that.“

Newt sinks into the cushion of the couch, head falling back and hair pulled down by gravity. „He was tired of me, Min. And that’s not even what hurts the most – it’s the fact that I’m just too tired of myself as well.“

Minho turns to look at him. „Was that the reason why you didn’t answer?“

„Yeah.“ Newt whispers and Minho just stays quiet, looking at the blond on his sofa.

 

 

And it’s only night when Minho holds Newt in his arms, both of them a little too tall for the short mattress, and the other is crying into the material of his shirt. It’s only the tiny specks of stars painting the night sky when Newt tells Minho he wants to die and Minho feels the boy tremble inside his embrace, making him hold on more tightly in fear of his body bursting. It’s only the moon hovering above them when Newt admits he is scared of the dark and Minho tells him that’s the reason why the sun flees each time it arrives.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **가벼운** **미소만을** **남기고**  
>  _gabyeoun misomaneul namgigo  
>  You left behind a light smile_
> 
> **웃는** **얼굴로** **넌** **떠났지**  
>  _utneun eolgullo neon ddeonatji  
>  Left with a smiling face_
> 
> **우리** **기약을** **굳게** **믿는** **척하면서**  
>  _uri giyageul gudge midneun cheokhamyeonseo  
>  Pretending to firmly believe in our promise_

 

Newt stays for a few days more – exactly four – and Minho feels like it could be like this forever. He wakes up earlier than Newt each day, admiring the sight next to him when his eyes eventually flutter open due to his alarm going off. He’s also quick to turn it off again so Newt can keep sleeping while he has to head to university. The hours there turn to torture then – it keeps Minho jittery, so full of distracted images popping up randomly inside his head. And it just gets worse each day.

 

 

Because on the second day of Newt’s stay Minho comes home to the blond standing in the kitchen – honey hair damp, shoulders exposed by the thin sweater hanging on his slim frame and soft hands working on delicious food.

Minho feels his hormones whirring inside of him, bouncing from the pit of his stomach as he pushes down the urge to sneak up from behind and sling his arms around Newt’s middle, kissing along his bare skin, tongue leaving a trail on his neck.

Instead he beams at the blond, releaved when he smiles back and even jokes some bit when they eat together at the small table in the kitchen, bare feet hot against the cold tiles of the floor.

 

 

On the third day, however, Brenda and Thomas come over, insisting when Minho had told them that Newt was with him. Newt smiles with more joy now and Minho hopes it stays that way for some time.

And he feels like maybe he has some power to fix Newt and put his pieces back into place, because when all four of them start watching movies, Newt pressed against Minho’s side, their fingers interlace. It just happens and neither of them talks about it when Thomas and Brenda are gone again, but at the coming of night their fingers just find eachother’s naturally.

 

 

And when on Wednesday, the fourth day of Newt’s stay, the evening bids welcome and the sun starts to set, Newt laughs loudly again and Minho can’t help but tell him he loves his laugh.

 

„What?“ Newt asks, grin faltering.

Minho smiles at him, knees bumping into Newt’s as they sit on the living room’s black carpet. „Your laugh.“ he says softly, „I love it when you laugh.“

„My laugh is horrible.“

„It’s not.“

„It is!“

Minho rolls his eyes. „Can you for once quit debasing yourself?“

He’s usually rude, it’s typical, really, but when he sees the frown on Newt’s face he regrets ever opening his mouth.

„Okay, no, that was not how I meant it I–“ he wants to undo his actions, but Newt is faster.

„No, you’re right.“ Newt says and Minho hates the trembling of his voice, „I tend to bring myself down a lot, but what you don’t understand is that I actually mean the words I say.“

„And you don’t seem to understand that you’re a fucking idiot.“

Minho however doesn’t expect the blond to say: „I already knew that.“ and that’s why he moves closer to him, palms resting on Newt’s bare thighs, making him flush immediately, and mutters: „When will you see how great you are?“

It’s an innocent touch, but Minho forces himself so hard to control even his fingertips, each muscle inside his body, because just the slightest twitch of his wrist and his thumbs could disappear smoothly under the material of Newt’s boxers.

Newt never averts his eyes. „When will you see I’m not?“ he asks in return and Minho hums thoughtfully.

„Never.“ he eventually breathes and suddenly their noses are about to bump.

„I don’t understand you.“ Newt mutters.

And Minho says: „I don’t understand you either, but I’ll gladly figure out how to.“ and it’s so scary how the truth spills from his mouth so easily now, eyes darting to the other boy’s cherry lips.

Newt’s breaths become more uneven. „Are you even aware of what you’re saying right now?“ he asks.

„Very aware.“ Minho can smell Newt’s scent so clearly – it dusts his mind and befuddles his senses.

„What about your actions?“

Minho’s nose bumps softly into the tip of Newt’s. „A hundred percent.“

And that’s when he leans in completely, lips connecting. And it feels so pure, so natural and just so fucking good, Minho never wants to let go. Because Newt’s lips are like a dream, like a drop of nectar in a withered garden, and Minho feels them pumping live into his heart, air into his lungs and flowers into his mind. He doesn’t think of it like the first kiss he shares with a boy – but it’s the first kiss that makes crisp leaves dance inside his stomach and pushes pollen to whirr around his heart in circles.

It’s too short, but yet Newt breaks apart, asking: „Why did you do that?“ and Minho tells him: „Because I wanted to, idiot.“ before kissing him once more – this time longer, more eager.

Minho’s tongue runs along the other boy’s bottom lip, making him whimper softly, and when both their tongues finally meet, Minho lets only the tip of his thumb dip under the cotton of Newt’s boxers, other hand stroking and freeing his hip bone. The flames burning in the pit of his stomach flare heavely when Newt’s fingers get caught inside his hair, pulling lightly and driving him wild.

He isn’t sure if it’s the best idea to kiss the blond right now like that, not certain if he is overwhelming him, but he is so damn sure that he never wants to stop.

So he pushes Newt softly onto his back, pressing him into the black carpet. The blond exhales in surprise and Minho hovers above him, catching his every puff of air. His fingers ghost up his sides, creeping among the thin material of Newt’s shirt.

The blond shudders. „Minho.“ he breathes, hot against the other’s waiting lips, „I can’t, I–“

Minho isn’t sure what he means when the words get stuck inside his throat. That’s why he freezes, eyes stuck on Newt’s as the tips of his fingers gently press into the other boy’s flesh.

„What is it?“ he asks and Newt closes his eyes, a quivering breath leaving his parted lips.

And Minho is afraid of the boy’s next words, feeling the small strings of fear lacing up his throat, muffling the painful beating of his heart.

„You shouldn’t kiss me.“ he answers, brows crunched.

And Minho thinks he’s right for a moment, but it passes quickly when Newt opens his eyes again, gazes meeting and setting off wild thunderstorms inside his head and tsunamis inside the pit of his stomach.

He asks him „Why?“ anyway.

And Newt says: „Because it will ruin everything.“

So Minho shakes his head, lips touching Newt’s forehead now, tinting the blond’s cheeks in a beautiful, rosy pink. „It won’t.“ he murmures and when Newt speaks again, the soft crack inside his voice makes Minho’s heart tremble.

„How can you know?“

His right hand comes to caress the boy’s cheek, fingertips stroking along his jawline to his temple. „I can’t,“ he simply states, „but I do know that no matter what comes, I’ll be there for you.“

„You won’t be able to be there – you’re here and I’m in England.“

Minho sighs, his thumb drawing circles on the side of Newt’s neck. „Can’t you just live with me? Here?“ he asks and the longing inside his voice sounds almost pitiful.

Newt averts his eyes, head leaning to the right. „I told you before it wouldn’t work.“

„What makes you think it wouldn’t?“ Minho’s voice raises slightly, but still Newt doesn’t look at him.

All he receives as an answer is a soft, whispered „You know why.“ And that’s when Minho takes Newt’s face in both of his hands, forcing the blond to look at him.

„Please, Newt,“ it’s gentle, it’s pathetic – it’s so filled with emotion, „Tell me.“

And next comes a wave of tears prickling in the corners of Newt’s eyes as he says: „It’s just – You don’t know what you’re doing right now.“

„Of course I know what I’m doing.“

Newt pushes the other slightly away fom himself, trying to sit up. „No you don’t!“ he argues, „you’re acting like you love me, but you don’t!“

Minho places a palm on the blond’s chest, pressing him back into the black carpet, golden locks falling against the smooth surface. „How can one be so fucking blind?“ he asks himself out loud, teeth gritted and eyes caressing the other’s features shamelessly.

„Oh, come on, Minho!“ his cherry lips are gleaming invitingly, „Don’t tell me you’re actually interested in me.“

And Minho just kisses him again, not even waiting for a reaction before he breaks apart again. His hands grope the blond’s hips dominantly, plump lips coming to rest next to his ear, hot breaths turning Newt into a flustered mess.

„Do you think I’d be imagining touching you if I wasn’t?“

Newt’s voice is choked. „Touching – Touching me?“ he asks, face flushed and red creeping along the line of his neck.

Minho only hums in return. He kisses his best friend behind his ear, nose running along hot skin and nestling between the soft streaks of honey hair.

„How can I be sure you’re not messing with me?“ he hears the blond ask and that’s when he lets the tip of his nose brush along his jawline, laying a sweet, brief kiss on his chin, before he looks Newt in the eyes.

„Let me prove it to you.“ he mutters, „Let me show you how much–“ and that’s when he tells him, when he finally tells him that: „– I love you.“

And he doesn’t know what kind of reaction he expected, but when Newt says nothing in return, but kisses his lips, he feels at ease and Newt’s lips seem like balm for his soul.

The blond mutters: „Is our promise still valid?“ and when Minho furrows his brows he continues, „You know; when we promised we wouldn’t fuck things up again.“

And Minho remembers – the night of Newt’s birthday, their bodies swinging in the same rhythm as they promised eachother.

And now the sun is almost behind the horizon when Minho promises Newt anew. „I promise you we will make everything work.“

And Newt believes.

 

 

On the fifth day Newt is gone again, vanishing in between in the haze of clouds. And Minho misses him, heart missing a single piece.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **널** **잡기** **위해서** **내** **모든** **짓을** **해볼** **걸**  
>  _neol jabgi wihaeseo na modeun jiseul haebol geol  
>  I should've done everything to make you stay_
> 
> **적어도** **후회** **속에서까지** **살지** **않기** **위해서** **girl**  
>  _jeogeodo huhoe sogeseoggaji salji anhgi wihaeseo girl  
>  Then I wouldn't be living in regret, girl_

 

November lays itself to rest and December greets, but Newt hasn’t called yet. For a whole week there is no message, only the cold, monotonous voice of the mailbox answering Minho’s calls and he regrets everything for a moment. Because he’d rather swallow his feelings, than not having Newt with him – he’d rather bite his tongue, than not being able to hear his name roll off the other’s.

The seven days are torture. Silent, agonizing torture. Minho almost gets angry – almost.

Because when on a Thursday night there is an incoming call, he forgets about every doubt he had before.

 

„I’m sorry, Min, I just needed some time, I – I’m sorry I need so much time–“

„It’s okay. I’ll wait for you, it’s okay. I’m just glad to hear your voice.“

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **평생** **그리워질** **그대의** **존재**  
>  _pyeongsaeng geuriweojil geudaee junjae  
>  I'm gonna miss your presence for all my life_

 

Three weeks pass and Minho’s heart seems to grow each time Newt smiles at him – smiles so special, they make his knees wobble in weakness. They are apart, but their hearts are so close, stitched by the side and strings connecting their beating. Minho falls in love, if possible even harder than before, and the longing for Newt’s lips touching his becomes unbearable, turning him into a hot mess at night with sheets too warm, crumbled in a lump on the floor.

And even though Newt still needs fixing, the hole Ben has left is not massive, but visible. Minho knows the blond needs time and it’s what he offers him first. He takes all his time, all his devotion to fill up each crack and gap.

 

There are only at the beginning and Minho believes they can do it, he believes. The hope makes his mind bloom and heart swell, but there are sharp pieces falling to his feet when two days before Christmas Eve he hears it. It passes in the neighbourhood in horrified hushes, people whispering behind their hands, eyes wide and full of dismay.

Newt’s father committed suicide. After some neighbours noticed the bundle of newspaper on the man’s porch piling up they called the police. The man was found with a rope around his neck, hanging from the bedroom’s ceiling fan, mouth agape and eyes blown cold.

 

Minho calls Newt immediately and when Newt actually picks up, he can’t help but feel his heart shatter – his name leaving the other’s lips in a sob, so painful and guilty.

There is another hole to fill – it rips apart the stitches Minho has managed to pull, but it is okay. Minho knows Newt needs time – time for happiness. He knows the pain won’t last. It’s not everlasting, right? Nothing is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **그냥** **내** **품에서** **더** **깊은** **잠에** **들어** **왜**  
>  _geunyang nae pumeseo deo gipeun jame deureo wae  
>  Just fall into a deep sleep in my arms_

 

Minho still sends a gift to Newt for Christmas – it’s one of his sweaters and two dried flowers out of the garden of his father. He knows it won’t arrive in time and he doesn’t expect anything in return. Newt’s smile is enough and brightens the snowy days better than each light in the houses‘ windows or the snow covered lanterns in the streets.

 

 

The funeral is in January. It is raining, drops mixed with snow flakes and it tangles in Newt’s blond locks. Minho embraces him in front of the church, holding him tightly. Newt’s clings onto his jacket, fingers buried in the material and face hidden in the crook of his neck. They don’t say anything – no words to describe the current situation.

And the earth turns into mud when Newt’s father’s ashes disappear under the ground. There are only a few more people – Brenda, Thomas and Winston encircling Newt, building him up, and also Newt’s mother and two of Newt’s aunts.

The mortician’s words seem to drown in between the heavy rain and the soft cries of Newt’s aunt Chloe fill up the rim of the grave.

Newt, however, doesn’t cry – not when his friends offer their condolences, neither when his aunts squeeze him in a tight hug, whimmering growing louder. He doesn’t cry until he is in Minho’s bedroom, wrapped in warm sheets. Just then there are salty tears dropping off his chin and even though Minho wipes them off tenderly, they come again. Newt whimpers, admitting the feeling of guilt inside his chest, the hope that finally died – the hope that his father may embrace him again lovingly, love him without minding whom he decides to love. Minho just listens, hands caressing his back and lips kissing away more teardrops until they are finally dried and the blond is breathing even, fast asleep.

Minho knows it needs time to let him heal – he knows. It’s okay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **잔인하게** **아름다운** **저녁** **하늘** **바라봐**  
>  janinhage areumdaun jeonyeok haneul barabwa  
>  I'm looking up at the cruelly beautiful evening sky
> 
> **너의** **마지막이라니까** **또** **눈물** **나잖아** **please**  
>  _neoui majimagiranigga ddo nunmul najanha please  
>  Tears are coming cause it's the last time I'm seeing you, please_

 

It’s the morning two days after the funeral when Newt’s mother wants to return to England, wanting to take her son with her, but Newt begs to stay for just one more day instead. She gets upset, telling him it’s expensive to change the flights and it’s nothing she wants to waste her money for. They fight, it’s loud and Minho wants to chide in, but then it ends.

The blond’s mother leaves without her son that afternoon. She tells him to pay for the change himself – because he is ‚old enough for that by now‘.

It is in fact expensive to do so and that night it leaves the blond furious. There is anger seething in the pit of his stomach and even though it makes him rant loudly, Minho can’t help but want to kiss the frown off his face, making it disappear in just a matter of seconds.

 

„Can you calm down for a moment?“ Minho murmures, amused, „We have this night and the next morning together and I don’t want you to be upset the whole time of it.“

Newt sighs then, eyes darting into Minho’s direction. „I know, you’re right. I’m just so bloody tired.“ he says and it makes a warm smile appear on Minho’s face.

He opens his arms for the blond, a tender „C’mere“ following. And when Newt sinks onto the small, plain couch and right into Minho’s embrace each whiff of cold seems to be too weak to reach them. Minho is Newt’s shield, keeping storms and waves away from him – protecting the parts he can’t cover himself.

„Can we just watch a movie?“ the blond mumbles into the crook of Minho’s neck, hot breath tickling his skin and making him hum in contentment. He wraps his arms around the slender frame, fingertips rubbing the bare spot of Newt’s lower back.

Minho knows the blond wants to get his mind off after everything that had happened these days, these weeks – he knows – and that’s why he pulls him even closer, nose brushing along the other’s jawline.

„Wouldn’t you rather go to the movies?“ he asks, „With me?“

Newt snorts quietly then, blush dusting his cheeks. „Like a date?“ he asks in return.

And Minho hums, answering: „Yeah, like a date.“

 

And when they actually get dressed – Newt pulling on some decent pants while Minho pretends he didn’t look at all – Minho’s heart hammers. Newt’s eyes are wide with excitement and the small sparkles Minho can see beneath them are so bright, it makes him forget about all the sadness that clings to the blond’s back, harassing the poor boy and weighing him down like an anchor – pulling him to the ground and dismissing every chance to reach the sky.

 

„Are we gonna eat pasta afterwards?“ Newt’s asks, sunny smile tugging at his lips, while Minho covers his slender body in a coat.

He can’t help but return that smile. „I think I know just the right place.“

 

So that’s how they end up in a small restaurant with white shutters and luminous lights hanging from the facade at 7 PM on a Saturday. The sun is already partly hidden behind rooftops, only dipping a few lower ones into a warm orange colour, kissing their tiles and satellite dishes softly, careful.

They are sitting at a table for two and while Newt is rambling on and on about the movie they watched, Minho just watches the way his lips move, how they form each word and how they pull into a beautiful smile each time Minho nods his head in agreement.

A single flame dances on the candle’s wick and spends poor light – it reminds Minho of the night of Newt’s birthday when he had told the story they wrote once in literature class. The light had painted the blond’s face just like it does now – faintly and weak, but yet so soft and beautiful.

„ – I mean, it was so unrealistic!“ Minho’s thoughts break apart, „First he dives for nearly five minutes without having to breathe even once and then he crashes his damn motorbike and gets away with what? – A small scratch! No more!“

Minho chuckles at the blond’s rant, watching him stuffing his mouth with noodles. The food is cheap, but good. „I’m truly sorry you had to watch Tom Cruise being a hero.“ he says, before munching on his own warm food again.

„A hero?“ Newt asks, aghast – Minho chuckles once more, „That was ridiculous! He will never be a hero!“

„Don’t be so hard on him, babe.“

And Minho really didn’t meant to – he didn’t meant to let the words escape him like that – but they melt on his tongue so well whenever he sees Newt’s face – with bangs covering his forehead and cheeks kissed by the wind. And he feels his heart hit the ground when the boy sitting across from him goes silent for a moment, eyes blown wide as crimson wanders from the back of his neck up to his ears.

And then the moment is gone again when Newt tells him: „I’m more into spiderman anyway.“ and Minho just grins, answering: „We can watch spiderman back at my place.“

He knows it’s all alright when Newt grins back at him – they don’t have to worry. Minho promised him they would make everything work.

„I don’t usually end my date at someone else’s place.“

A smirk dances on Minho’s lips. „What a shame.“ he murmurs, elbows resting on the table as he leans closer to the other, „And here I thought a brand new Spiderman DVD was worth to think about your usual habits.“

Newt snorts. „I gotta admit it’s pretty tempting.“

„Just give in then, shank.“ Minho mutters and the sly smile that covers Newt’s lips next has his heart missing a skip.

„Will it be a decent movie night then?“ he asks.

And Minho says: „Very decent. I could offer a half empty bottle of South Carolina’s cheapest wine and a bowl of homemade popcorn.“

It makes Newt giggle, Minho’s heart swelling painfully beneath his chest. „That sounds pretty decent.“ he mutters, eyes crinkling prettily.

„May I have the pleasure?“

Newt nods, cheeks flushed. „You may.“

 

And when Minho pays for their food – ignoring the blond’s protests successfully – he treats Newt like he deserves. He helps him to put on his coat again, takes his hand and leads him down the streets. The sun has eventually sunken by now, soft spots of stars creeping their way onto the wide blanket the night had already placed above their heads. Newt’s fingers are cold in between Minho’s, but the spark that innocent touch sets off inside his guts is warm.

 

He only lets go when they arrive at his apartment. Newt’s hand slips out of his as he fumbles with the bunch of keys inside his back pocket, eventually opening the front door and being able to reach for the blond’s hand once more, making him giggle softly.

„Don’t worry, Min.“ he mutters, „I won’t run away.“

And it’s silly, playful, but it doesn’t make Minho’s grip falter. Instead he pulls the blond’s hand up, entangled with his own, kissing the back of it. „I would catch you anyway.“

A breathy laugh escapes Newt’s throat. „Only because you’re a track star.“

„Not only because of that–“ Newt rolls his eyes at his words, „but also because you would probably get lost faster than you think.“

Newt huffs, hand now finally slipping out of Minho’s as he takes off his coat. „I wouldn’t.“ he argues.

„Oh, you totally would.“

Minho watches the blond with a bemused smirk, eyes shamelessly lingering on the blond’s ass as he leaves Minho standing at the front door to go to the living room.

„Shut up or I’ll ditch you to drive over to Tommy’s.“ he hears him mumbling.

Shaking his head with a chuckle, Minho peels off his own jacket and trails behind Newt, embracing him from behind before he has the chance to come even near the sofa. The blond yelps in surprise, making Minho chuckle lowly.

„Where do you think you’re going, babe?“ he asks, nose nustling the crook of Newt’s neck.

Newt blushes in return, hands placed on top of Minho’s, half heartedly trying to pry them off of his waist. „Away from you.“ he mumbles, almost shyly.

„Not gonna happen.“

„Minho, get off–“

„But it’s so cold, I need your warmth.“

It’s when Newt laughs. „You’re so stupid.“ he says, but Minho can only focus on the way the laughter falls off his lips like petals off a flower’s thin body, unobtrusively and naturally. However, it’s more beautiful than each flower Minho has ever seen.

He turns the blond inside his arms, teasingly raising his eyebrows. “What was that?”

“You heard me.”

 

And right then and there Minho knows why it was predictable for him to fall in love with his best friend.

He kisses him.

It’s the way they function with eachother – how they did from the very first start. Too much friction able to drive them hot and fiery, but the longing for a touch after separation cooling them down everytime.

Newt kisses back.

It’s the way they mold into one – how they figured two may be more, but more can be too much sometimes. No matter where their minds drift, the other is able to rescue them from sinking, able to carry them ashore.

 

Their lips seem to melt, the heat between them building up. Minho’s hands run along Newt’s back until they reach the back of his thighs, lingering there – palms pressing into them and fingers dancing on top, kneading the soft flesh. A soft mewl slips out of the blond’s parted lips only to crash against Minho’s. Their tongues meet and Newt’s fingers grip the other’s broad shoulders, digging into the material of his sweatshirt. Minho is panting, Newt’s lips heaven and his hands on him like a blessing itself.

A surprised gasp leaves Newt’s throat when Minho suddenly gropes the back of his thighs more firmly, lifting him up and making him wrap his legs around the other’s middle. The next whiff of air is knocked out of his lungs when he is placed on the sofa, back sinking into the soft cushion as Minho hovers above him, lips ghosting over his own. Minho’s kisses are twisting his mind, his tongue befuddling him.

And when Minho pulls away, gaze caressing Newt’s face, he feels the need to catch his breath. Newt’s hair is mushy and messy, lips slightly swollen and red – so red, so tempting and more delicious than each cherry inside his mother’s garden. “I know it’s – it’s so lame to say, but–” he lets his hands roam the blond’s chest, palms rubbing smoothly, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

There are slender fingers caught inside his hair when Newt just pulls him in for another kiss. Minho doesn’t believe in a God, but when Newt kisses him – kisses him breathless, tongue tasting of fervor and possibilities – he thinks about praying, folding his hands and begging for someone to take each sin off him.

 

Their kisses last long, their hands gingerly discovering a few places of the other’s body. Minho’s fingertips caress Newt’s thighs, Newt’s back, his chest. There are whimpers bubbling inside the blond’s throat before bursting in a hot exhale. The minutes tick by and eventually their pants are laying on the carpet, shirts hanging limply over the couch’s backrest.

Minho soaks up the sight in front of him – milky skin dotted with moles and lean muscles flexing with every move. A rosy tint spreads down Newt’s chest and his skin is hot when Minho’s palms roam over his chest once more. His lips occupy the blond’s stomach, making him mewl gingerly. It sends arrousing jolts through his body, lips trailing lower until his nose runs swiftly along the top of Newt’s briefs.

“What–”, Newt interrups himself with a soft cry when Minho suddenly kisses the warm skin of his inner thighs, “What about the – the Spiderman movie?” he asks, voice croaking.

Minho runs his tongue over the other’s inner thighs, starting to suck and bite gently. Newt squirms, moaning quietly as he tries to hide his face in his hands, toes curling.

“Do you still wanna watch it?” Minho asks, but his mind is occupied – hands groping the blond’s hips as he leaves purple love bites along the soft flesh of his thighs. Newt’s skin is almost as sweet as the whimpers rolling off his tongue.

Newt starts to tremble, thighs shaking slightly as Minho starts to nibble at the sensitive flesh once more. “No.” he chokes, but then, “I mean, yes–”

The words make Minho finally look up from in between the blond’s thighs. He cocks a brow before he lets his fingertips brush a few strands out of Newt’s eyes, making the boy look at him. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks then.

Newt’s cheeks heat up immediately, palms hiding his face anew. “No.” he wails softly, “It’s just all so new–”

“Hey,” Minho’s voice is gentle when he takes Newt’s hands into his, “I understand if it feels weird to you to kiss your best friend, but I’m telling you that I will offer you all the time I have to get used to it and as comfortable as you need to be.”

Newt’s eyes dart downward. “I’m sorry I need so long–”

However, Minho cuts him off with a sweet, brief kiss on the lips. “Stop talking klunk.” he tells him, “We have all the time in the world.”

 

 

However, truth is they don’t – Newt knows it, Minho knows it. Because when they fall asleep on the sofa, limbs entangled and TV running with yet another half of their movie to watch, and the the next morning passes them in a hurry, the time isn’t enough. The grains of sand fall faster and faster inside their hourglass and the minutes vanish inside the dirt.

Newt leaves by evening, dressed in one of Minho’s sweaters and his heart heavy. Thomas, Brenda and Winston embrace him with smiles that overdraw their sadness and Minho puts up one of his own, blinking away the stinging prickle of tears. They call out their farewells, but before Newt is about to slip through his fingertips once again, Minho kisses him hard – hands cupping the other’s face. There is no oxygen left inside his lungs when he lets go – salty waves of bittersweet goodbyes washing over him and drowning him.

Minho thinks he will miss Newt forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _La li la di dada la li da_
> 
> **너를** **감싸** **안은** **하늘이** **싫다**  
>  _neoreul gamssa aneun haneuri silda  
>  I hate the sky for wrapping around you_

And when Brenda suddenly asks: „So you finally decided to start dating, huh?“ Minho’s head overflows with doubts.

He says: „I don’t know.“ because even though it’s all so clear to him, he isn’t sure if it is for Newt as well. Because even though his friends‘ faces brim with confusion, it’s just so damn hard to explain. Because whatever it is what is between him and Newt, it’s taking its time – it’s testing the waters before jumping into it all at once.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _La li la di dada la li da_
> 
> **너를** **밝혀주는** **저** **달이** **밉다**  
>  _neoreul balgyeojuneun jeo dari mibda  
>  I hate the moon for revealing you_

Until the end of January Minho only receives a couple of text messages from the blond. The few words seemingly engraved in the small, bright screen of his phone are barely enough and they awake a migraine inside the depths of his thick skull – leaving each night with a throbbing pain and taunting worries.

He knows Newt isn’t doing well. It eats him up and when the sun bids its farewell there is guilt sitting next to him, telling him he shouldn’t have let the other go so easily. Because Newt is having a hard time and if Minho would love him, he wouldn’t let him enter that shucking airplane each and every time anew.

But whenever Minho tries to drown out those mocking voices and asks Newt if he should just come and take a flight to England, they win again. Newt turns down every offer he makes and it’s like a whip hitting his heart over and over again.

So Minho tells the blond to at least give his friends the chance to be there for him, help him get rid of all of his dark thoughts, but it leads to Newt being away, being gone by day time and only returning when night breaks in, and it leads to Minho missing him even more.

And Minho doesn’t get a break to breathe, it’s pressing down on his lungs – the longing, the ache of his heart and all of the what-if’s. Newt is on his mind constantly and he didn’t ask for it, really didn’t ask for love or for worry to keep him company, but when the moon greets him and the stars reveal themselves, he can’t help, but invite them in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _La li la di dada la li da_
> 
> **이대로** **보내기는** **아쉬우니까**  
>  _idaero bonaegineun aswiunigga  
>  Because I don't wanna let you go like this_
> 
> **이건** **아마** **세상** **가장** **쓸쓸한** **멜로디야**  
>  _igeon ama sesang gajang sseulsseulhan mellodiya  
>  This is the saddest melody in the world_
> 
> _Hey Mr. Airplane_

It comes sneeringly predictable four weeks after Newt’s visit. They start fighting and it’s so pathetic, so unnecessary, but they do it anyways.

 

“Please, tell me you’re joking right now, Minho.”

“I’m only asking what Ben’s deal with you is? He–”

“Is my ex boyfriend. What else is important? I’m not dating him behind your back, calm the bloody fuck down.”

Minho grits his teeth. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down, Newt.” he sneers, “Nobody hangs out with their ex boyfriend, you know.”

He really didn’t mean to lose his head like that. Minho didn’t mean to snap at the blond so easily. But somehow he just seems to function like a clockwork and the dynamite inside of him lost all its seconds, setting off the bomb.

“How do you even know he was with me?” Newt asks, his voice thin on the line.

And Minho answers: “I saw it on your facebook page.” earning a sigh from the other. It sounds like Newt is tired – tired of him and it makes his fingers tremble and palms sweat. “Nobody lets their ex boyfriend wrap his arm around them, Newt.”

“Well, I do, Minho.” Newt suddenly shouts, “I was actually glad we could sort out all the shit again, so we don’t live hating eachother and avoiding us when we see eachother inside the aisle of a supermarket.”

A mocking laugh escapes the Asian male. It’s breathy, it’s cold. “Your’re glad.” he taunts, “Maybe you should crawl back to him then.”

 

He really didn’t meant to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **잠깐** **멈춰봐** **비가** **오잖아**  
>  _jamggan meomchweobwa biga ojanha  
>  Stop for a moment, it's raining_
> 
> **바람** **불잖아** **지금** **가면** **위험하니까**  
>  _baram buljanha jigeum gamyeon wiheomhanigga  
>  The wind is blowing, it'll be dangerous if you go now_
> 
> _Hey Mr. Airplane_

 

They stop talking. February is filled with so much silence it keeps Minho awake at night. The nothingness keeps him occupied and the absence of Newt visits him in his dreams. It hurts – it hurts so much and it hurts so bad and it just won’t give Minho the chance to rest.

So it’s no wonder when he finally breaks after one month. March combs his hair with sleek fingers as he sits on the campus of his university, late evening, strong wind and tiny droplets of rain. He’s alone on the campus and it’s peaceful – even though Minho feels like he wouldn’t recognize peace anymore.

His fingers fumble with the screen of his phone and finally he dials the blond’s number.

It rings about three times when–

„Hello?“ Newt’s voice is barely above a whisper and it sends tingles among Minho’s skin. Sweet jolts running through his veins and waves pushing against the walls of his stomach.

There is a lump inside his throat. He can’t talk.

„Minho,“ the sound of his name on Newt’s lips brings tears to his eyes – they sting and although he tries to blink them away they keep coming back, rolling down his cheeks, „Minho, I know you’re there.“

He swallows, but still his voice stays hidden. His heart screams at him – Just do something!

„I’m hanging up now, okay?“

It’s so embarrassing when a tiny cry escapes his throat. Minho hurriedly wipes his eyes, sleeves catching the salty tears, but his lips just won’t stop quivering. He feels pathetic.

„Min.“ that’s all it takes.

Minho releases a shaky breath. „Newt, I–“ he wants to tell the blond so much, wants to apologize so many times, but yet again his voice is stuck and he nearly loses his mind.

„I’m sorry, too, idiot.“

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **잠깐** **멈춰봐** **시간** **많잖아**  
>  _jamggan meomchweobwa sigan manhjanha  
>  Stop for a moment, there's a lot of time_
> 
> **내일도** **있잖아** **그녀를** **내려줘**  
>  _naeildo itjanha geunyeoreul naeryeojweo  
>  There's tomorrow too so let her come off_
> 
> **아님** **나도** **태워줘**  
>  _anim nado taeweojweo  
>  or let me get on_

 

March offers them time to heal – anew, again – and six days before Minho’s birthday a neatly wrapped box arrives. It’s small, but even the stamp makes the smile on his face grow until it starts to hurt.

On the 31st of March he finally unwraps it and the blue wrapping paper reveals a watch. It looks expensive and Minho feels bad, the feeling only growing stronger when Newt’s pouting face pops up on his laptop screen.

 

„I am so sorry,“ the blond says, „I wish I could be there with you today.“

And it makes Minho’s stomach churn, his heart twist and his eyes fill up with sorrow. „Don’t be,“ he murmures softly, „seeing your face is probably the best present anyways – even when it’s just over a screen.“

„And here I thought my present for you was a good choice.“

Minho admires the small smile on the other’s cherry lips. „You should’ve spent the money on a flight ticket instead.“ he mutters, but the shocked gasp coming from the blond pulls the corners of his mouth up in a smirk, „I’m just joking, babe. It’s a great present and I’m feeling slightly bad that you spent so much money on me.“

Newt hums softly in return. „You always come too late to literally everything so I thought it might be a good idea.“ the smile that plays on his lips is playful – Minho wants to kiss it away.

„Still“ he teases, „I hoped for something more – personal.“

Something sparks in the blond’s eyes and Minho wished to see more clear – more close.

Newt mutters: „What did you have in mind?“ and Minho says: „I don’t know, maybe a card–“ but the words die down inside his throat when Newt’s fingers start fumbling with the hem of his creamy sweater.

„How about something better?“ Newt asks and his voice is just as sweet as honey, dripping from his lips, making Minho long for a taste of it.

His gaze lingers on the blond’s lips, heat building up in the pit of his stomach when Newt darts out his tongue to wet them. „Like a photo album?“ he asks in return and Newt chuckles, lips moving beautifully.

„Sorry,“ Newt’s fingers pull at the material of his sweater, tugging and teasing, „I can’t offer you anything to touch today.“

The tips of Minho’s ears start burning. „I’ll take everything I can.“ he murmures, voice raspy already – he knows what goes on inside the pretty boy’s mind and the thought of it is painfully arrousing, painfully tempting to make him lose each bit of control.

„Really, huh?“ Newt lowers his gaze, showing off only an inch of milky white skin that lays underneath the material of his sweater, and Minho says: „Yeah, really.“ and he feels the spit inside his mouth dry out as soon as the sweater eventually is peeled off the slender body.

„Fuck, you’re so beautiful.“ it leaves his plump lips in a single breath – naturally.

And even though the shitty screen of his laptop doesn’t show the blond close enough, Minho knows there must be a rosy tint blossoming on his smooth skin, dusting his cheeks and kissing his neck.

„Isn’t it weird to call a boy beautiful?“ Newt asks.

But Minho shakes his head. „No,“ he says, „Not only girls can be beautiful.“

„Does that mean I’m as beautiful as the girls you had?“

„You’re more beautiful than each one of them.“

And Minho doesn’t regret saying those words – he knows he doesn’t have to. The truth seems to clear up more from day to day and he is so certain – his best friend is the most beautiful person on Earth, kissed by each season – hair woven in golden locks from spring’s spindle, lips ripened like cherries in summer’s garden, eyes locking up autum’s storms and flurry and skin marked through each snowflake of winter’s tragedy.

Newt is so beautiful in each and every way, but right now Minho thinks he’s by far the most beautiful he had ever seen him before – with his chest bare, fingertips ghosting over the waistband of his boxers, so close to reveal the last bit of him.

The blond is biting his lip, neck craning. Minho’s senses twirl in circles.

„Fuck,“ he grunts, „I wanna touch you so bad right now.“

Newt dips his thumb under the waistline of his boxers, mewling softly. „Min,“ he croaks, it sends another row of jolts right to Minho’s erection, „I want – I want your hands on me.“

Minho’s hand disappears inside his own pants. „Shit,“ he keeps on cursing, „I wanna grope your thighs and suck marks into each inch, wanna bite until you moan my name–“

„Minho–“ there is a soft moan in return and Minho can see the bulge inside the blond’s boxers.

His grip around his dick strengthens, teeth gritting as he bumps it inside his hands, getting off by just looking at Newt’s messy hair and parted, red lips. It’s a fantasy, but feels like a dream – so out of his control, hands so useless and Newt sprawled in front of him like an offer he can’t accept.

„I wanna,“ Minho has to gulp, „I wanna make you feel so good, wanna kiss you and touch you like you’ve never been touched before.“

Newt cries softly in return and Minho would’ve never thought something so desperate could make him feel so hot and excited at the same time. Minho would’ve never thought someone would ever possess the power to call out for him and make him actually come running. He just would’ve never thought Newt would be that someone one day – that someone that makes his knees go weak and voice tremble.

„I miss you so much, baby – god, I need to touch your body – your, your skin, I–“ Minho doesn’t know how to continue, but when Newt’s breath hitches audibly Minho starts bumping himself stronger, faster, breaths becoming heavier.

Newt whines loudly, hands stroking himself and making Minho mad about the fact it aren’t his instead. „I need you, Minho.“ he rasps.

Minho is so far gone already.

„Fuck.“

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **하루만** **한** **시간만** **딱** **일** **분만**  
>  _haruman han siganman ddak il bunman  
>  Just one more day, just one more hour, just one more minute_

 

Before Minho realizes it is May and the flowers on the balconies of the apartments appear in beaming colours – red poppies, lilac tulips, blue forget-me-nots. The summary fragrance awakes the wish inside him to buy flowers for Newt, to walk out of the flowers shop from down the road with a large bouquet of yellow buttercups and surprise his lover when he is too busy studying for exams.

However, he doesn’t buy any flowers. Newt isn’t there with him so all he can do is watch other people buy them instead – husbands choosing the largest bouquet of red roses for their wives, children giving all their pocket money to buy pinkish carnations for their mothers – it’s pleasant to see them bring a gust of summer into the houses and apartments, but he misses that small gust himself.

 

“What do you think about these?”

Minho shoots a brief glance into Brenda’s direction, thoughtful frown on her face as he shows him yet another bouquet of flowers – this time a bunch of colourful gerberas. Minho wrinkles his nose.

“Why don’t you just let the shopowner put a bouquet together for you?” he asks, earning a sigh from her.

“This is supposed to be special for her!” she argues.

Minho furrows his brows. “Don’t you think it’s more special when the shopowner arranges a completely new one instead of you buying Teresa one that’s already ready for sale?”

Brenda disappears behind a shelf of flowerpots. “What do _you_ know?” she asks in return and Minho can’t help but roll his eyes.

He grabs the hood of her jacket and pulls, leading the way to the front of the shop. Brenda, however, protests until they stand at the register, the old lady who owns the shop watching them curiously. Her nametag reads ‘Sharon’ Minho notices.

“We need a bouquet for her girlfriend.” he tells the lady. Her eyes crinkle behind the thick glasses sitting on her nose when she smiles sweetly at them.

She nods. “For what occasion?” Sharon asks, eyes fixed on Brenda, who still sulks childishly.

Minho sighs when he sees Brenda, answering for her instead. “She is coming from England to visit her. It’s something pretty special for them.”

However, he does notice a small smile forming on Brenda’s lips then.

“I see,” Sharon says, now looking between the both of them swiftly, “Does your girlfriend has a favourite type of flowers?”

“Well,” the tips of her ears turn red, “I don’t really know.” she admits, but the old lady only chuckles, wrinkly hands smoothing the green apron she’s wearing.

“What is your girlfriend’s favourite colour, dear?”

Brenda’s face lightens up almost instantly when she proudly blurts: “Orange!”

Well, Newt’s favourite colour is yellow – Minho knows.

The shopowner laughs heartedly. She says: “Alright, I know what should be just right for your girlfriend.” and when she disappears behind the shelves of her small shop, Minho and Brenda stay standing and only looking after her. They can hear her humming in thought, the mop of grey hair poking up behind a set of daisies as she picks a few from the loose flowers out of the vase.

She returns to the register with a beaming smile and several flowers with their petals painted yellow, white and orange.

“Any wishes to add before I tie them up?”

Brenda shakes her head. And in the next second the old woman is cutting the stems into length, piecing the flowers together in a beautiful, radiant mix. The sunflowers remind Minho of Newt’s kisses.

“Does your girlfriend live in England?” Sharon asks suddenly and Brenda’s gaze just lingers on the prominent, orange lilies inside her right hand.

She nods.

“Oh,” the old lady looks surprised, “That must be hard for you, love.”

Now Brenda’s gaze darts to the woman’s face and Minho is amazed to see the warm smile appear on her glossy lips. “It is,” she admits, “but we make it work anyway.”

“Love is stronger than every glue, huh?”

There is a soft tingling inside Minho’s stomach and all of a sudden Newt’s smile is on his mind. There is the blond’s sweet laughter in the back of his head and his bright eyes taking over his thoughts. There is Newt’s creamy skin beneath his fingertips and his breath against his lips. There is the realization; Newt is his summer and happiness – his sunflowers in June and his holidays in July. Newt is his glue, holding him together when he impends to fall apart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **한마디만** **하게**  
>  _hanmadiman hage  
>  just wanna say one thing_
> 
> _Hey Mr. Airplane_
> 
> **잠깐** **멈춰봐**  
>  _jamggan meomchweobwa  
>  Stop for a moment_

 

Teresa stays at Brenda’s place for two weeks – Minho knows, because he doesn’t catch sight of his friend once in those fourteen days. It doesn’t bother him anyhow. He hangs up with Thomas in his free time, June slowly dancing past them in a warm gush as Minho still tries to hold on to the last pieces of May.

 

Newt is doing worse again – late night calls keeping Minho awake, the moon glancing in pity as he murmures softly to the sobbing blond. Each whimmer tears at his heart, makes him think the night sky is shaking, stars falling to his feet limply.

He hears Newt telling him his mother wants him to visit a therapist and Minho thinks maybe – just maybe – it could help, but Newt doesn’t even want to accept the money he offers him to pay a visit there.

It’s all a little bit hopeless and the muggy breaths of June weigh down on his lungs, making surviving a little bit more harder.

Minho tells himself it’s just a low – everybody experiences that. It’s normal. He is okay with helping Newt up again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **꼭** **오늘** **가야** **해** **왜** **내일은** **안돼**  
>  _ggok oneul gaya hae wae naeireun andwae  
>  Do you have to go today? Can't you go tomorrow?_
> 
> **보내기** **싫은데** **가면** **언제** **오는데**  
>  _bonaegi sirheunde gamyeon eonje oneunde  
>  I don't wanna let you go, when will you be back?_

 

And suddenly they’re flying high again. July engulfs them in flames of passion and waves of mercy.

Newt’s excited voice is babbling on and on and Minho can only catch a couple of shreds, but the blond is talking about coming to America and Minho’s heart is overhead. Newt’s birthday present is a flight ticket, an opportunity to see the other again, and it has him beaming and grinning.

 

And when Minho finally sweeps him off his feet at the airport the same day, ten hours later, holding him tight and eventually kissing him hard, he feels so complete. Finally he can feel flowers sprout inside his mind and summer aerating his lungs.

„Happy birthday, shank.“ and he finally has the chance to give flowers to his lover – a bouquet of sunflowers, buttercups and forget-me-nots. They look beautiful underneath Newt’s smile and the kiss he receives as an expression of gratitude tastes so sweet and promising on his lips.

„I missed you.“ Newt says and it’s so soft and it makes Minho’s heart flutter so easily, but he loves it anyway.

 

And when Newt puts his suitcase into the back of Winstons old junk car and sits squashed between Minho and Brenda, he takes Minho’s hand, making the other bite his lip in order to suppress a grin. The touch warms Minho’s body, tingles erupting and running along his arms.

They drive past cornfields and hills, bumps in sandy damaged roads making the car dance slightly.

 

„Not that I’m complaining, but where exactly are you taking us, Win?“ Newt speaks up – they’ve been driving for about an hour and the blond noticed the scenery changing.

Minho chuckles, arm around the boy’s shoulders. There is a decent scent of citron dusting his blond hair.

Winston looks at Newt through the rear mirror. „I, Isaac,“ he smirks, „am taking you to a magical place.“

„No offense, but I’m a little bit scared now.“

Thomas chuckles, turning his head from where he is sitting in the passenger seat. „You’ll remember it as soon as we’re there.“

And he does. Newt remembers – Minho sees it in the sparkle that twinkles inside his eyes when the car comes to a halt in front of an old shack, hidden in between firs and a trail of memories. It’s Jorge’s – Brenda’s uncle’s – summerhouse.

„Welcome to Alabama’s palace.“ Brenda mutters and the smile that forms on Newt’s face then is breathtaking.

It reminds Minho of the first time thay entered the old cottage – one evening in August with glowworms whirring in the muggy breeze of late summer’s breath. They’ve been barely 15 back then, young and wild at heart, but yet so unaware what was to come. Now Minho wishes he had been more careful, more thoughtful somehow – it could’ve spared him a lot of pain and maybe Newt as well.

He turns to look at the blond, sees him grinning like the sun shines for the first time without clouds hanging onto its back. And he sees Newt so clear and so close – his lips, his cheeks, his eyelashes, the moles on his neck – it’s all so clear and Minho loves every bit of it.

„It was Minho’s idea actually.“ Thomas tells the blond and when his smile is then directed at said male, Minho’s heart melts into a meager puddle.

„We prepared everything for your weekend here,“ Brenda adds, „Now get your ass out of this car.“

„Wait,“ Newt turns to look at her, „Does that mean you’re leaving again?“

She chuckles. „Yes and no.“

Newt cocks his head in confusion and she chuckles anew.

„This night we’ll celebrate your birthday – after that we’re not interested what Minho and you plan on doing.“ Thomas tells him and when Newt’s cheeks tint red, Minho can’t help but chuckle lowly, kissing the blond’s neck teasingly.

„Everybody get out before Minho decides to fuck Newt in the car.“

Minho glares at Brenda in return, only earning a teasing smirk as the others exit. And Newt is crying out loud embarrassedly, but when the door to the shack falls open he becomes quiet.

There are Harriet and Frypan – and the blond’s eyes go so wide and they embrace eachother and then all of them leave for the backyard and Minho’s arm is around Newt’s waist and it’s all so light and easy, no place left for worries or troubles. And Winston hands out ice cold bottles of beer and Brenda places loudspeaker boxes on empty plant pots before she turns on the music and Minho lays in the uncut grass with his arms behind his head while he watches Newt sing out loud to the songs that boom in a span of three to four minutes. The alcohol is bitter on his tongue, but the cold is refreshing in a hot summer night like this.

The fireflies dance until the breeze outside turns chilly, like sparkles whirring around Newt’s head and making him giggle softly, drunkenly. Minho’s guts boil with warmth, gaze hazy as he smiles at the blond gently.

„Newt.“ he mutters, making the boy turn his gaze.

His heart flutters when Newt smiles at him and cocks his head questioningly. He moves closer and looks at him from above, sitting while Minho still lays on his back lazily.

„C’mere.“

And when he opens his arms Newt sinks into his embrace, giggling lightly when he presses brief kisses behind his ear. Their backs press into the thick blanket of grass, thin leaves tickling the back of their necks.

Minho’s hands claw at the blond’s waist. „Hey.“ he whispers.

Newt giggles softly. „Hey.“ he says in return, voice hushed as well and eyes fixated on Minho’s.

„How are you?“ Minho asks and the alcohol turns his words a little bit slurred.

„I am great.“ Newt answers and another light giggle rolls off his lips.

Minho looks at those lips, eyelids dropping. „Yeah?“ he asks.

And Newt just says: „Yeah.“ and then Minho kisses him, taking it slow and letting fuzziness take his mind over. Newt’s tongue leaves a trail of bitterness, the alcohol tasting more addicting when it comes from his lips.

Newt breaks apart, eyes closed as he snorts childishly and wrinkles his nose. „You taste of alcohol.“ he blurts, making Minho place a short kiss on his nose instead.

„So do you.“

But Minho doesn’t bother the taste of alcohol on his tongue as long as it comes from Newt’s. It’s addicting and yet he doesn’t care. Alcohol can harm his body, but Newt’s kisses can harm his senses. The blond can wrap him around his finger so easily and while the tiny voice in Minho’s head cries in fear, his heart hammers harder, thumps with so much longing – the beating overtones each word of doubt.

It’s time to give in to the rhythm of his heart instead of composing a different melody.

 

 

And Saturday ends in a haze – with a scent of alcohol lingering in the air and glasses clirring, with loud laughter, chatter and music that gets drowned out each time the seven of them decide to sing along to the song.

And when Sunday welcomes them friendly the sun is bright in their eyes and the fireflies are long gone. Crickets are chirping and birds singing their own songs. Minho stands next to Newt by the small garden gate, hand on the blond’s lower back, drawing circles with his thumb.

„Don’t forget to pick us up tomorrow evening!“ Newt reminds his friends as they enter Winston’s car.

Thomas sticks his head out of the window, grinning at the blond from the passanger seat. „We’ll think about it.“ he teases, laughing at the warning „Tommy“ he receives.

But before they drive off Newt tells Harriet and Frypan that they should keep in touch and the heart Harriet forms with her hands in return makes him laugh happily. Frypan on the other side blows the blond an air-kiss until each one of the five do so, making Newt pretend to catch them all.

It’s silly, but Minho doesn’t care – the grin on Newt’s face is worth it.

 

And then they are alone, left behind as the junk car’s exhaust pipe yowls mournfully. When it is only a small spot in the distance, Minho turns to look at the other beside him.

„Now,“ he begins, „How about I take you somewhere magical?“

Newt snorts. „Who are you?“ he asks teasingly, finally looking at Minho with a challenging glint inside his eyes, „Winston?“

„Brat.“

Newt laughs heartedly then, hand cupping Minho’s left cheek. „You don’t need to pout, you big baby.“ he tells him, making Minho raise his eyebrows in return.

„Who’re you calling a big baby?“ he asks.

„You.“

„I was trying to be romantic.“

„Too sweet.“

Newt squeaks when suddenly Minho lifts him up, throwing him over his shoulder in a swift movement.

„You’re so unthankful, shank.“ he says and Newt only laughs, wriggling in the other’s grip.

„Put me down, Minho!“ he orders in between giggles, but Minho is too amused to give in just like that.

He smirks. „What’s the magic word?“ he asks teasingly, one hand on the blond’s ass and earning a slap onto his back.

„Stop talking about magic!“

 

And when he sets Newt down again his face is flushed, grin on his face as he shoves Minho’s shoulder. They do nothing for a moment, but look at eachother with smiles dancing on their lips – Minho can’t find the right words anyway, he blames Newt for that.

So he blurts: „You have to put on shoes.“ and when Newt’s expression turns confused, he adds: „So we can go to the, uh, magical place.“

Newt chuckles lightly. „Right,“ he says, „I’ll be right back.“

Minho’s palms are sweaty and it makes him edgy somehow. Being in love brings so many strange emotions – one moment he’s calm and in the next a nervous wreck. Newt makes Minho lose his cool so easily and it’s irritating him to no end.

 

„I’m ready.“ the blond’s cheerful voice interrups his thoughts again and Minho’s gaze darts to him almost immediately.

He clears his throat. „Great.“

„Ya okay?“

Minho can’t help but smile. „Yeah.“ – he’s more than just ‚okay‘.

 

He guides Newt through a small piece of woodlands, awakening memories – sweet, sweet memories that stick to the back of their heads like pink bubblegum. Memories of the both of them climbing up marple trees in April, of them trying to built a treehouse out of brittle wood laths. Memories of scraped knees and carefree, lighthearted laughter, of races and hide-and-seeks.

Minho remembers Newt being home with him – Newt being his home, his safe haven in an ocean of fierce waves.

 

„I know exactly where we’re going.“

Minho looks at Newt. „You do?“ he asks and the blond nods in return.

„I didn’t forget just because I’ve been gone, Min.“ he tells him.

Minho smiles. „If you remember it all so well you won’t mind a little race, huh?“

And Newt grins back at him and before Minho can hear him say „I’m in.“ he’s already running off and Minho’s gaze lingers on his back for a brief moment. They wind themselves around the thick stems of large oaks and pines and Minho is so close behind, but whenever he could reach out for the blond, there is another step separating them.

Another ten meters and Minho is about to grab the colar of Newt’s shirt when he suddenly halts in front of the lake.

„Hah! I’m the–“ Minho crashes into him from behind and what follows next is a huge splash of cold water. It engulfs them in an icy embrace and when they come to the surface again, Minho hears the gasp for air.

„You idiot!“ he curses, „You bloody idiot!“

Minho can’t help but laugh then. „Nobody wins a race against me without taking the consequences.“ he teases, but next Newt is hitting his chest harshly.

„Why are you like this?“

He grabs Newt’s hips, both of them standing deep inside the lake’s cool water, abdomen barely above the surface. „You blocked the way. It wasn’t my fault.“ he receives another punch in the chest for that.

„My shoes are filled with water and everything else is wet as well – this is only your fault.“

Minho chuckles, grip around the other’s waist tightening when he tries to escape the embrace. „What?“ he asks in mock surprise, „You’re already wet for me?“

„Minho!“ the blush that burns on Newt’s face makes him laugh another time, but the smirk is replaced with a frown as soon as the blond frees himself from his grip and hurries ashore.

„Newt!“ Minho shouts after him – it’s unnecessary, really, there are only a few meters separating them, „Baby, I’m sorry.“

Newt, however, ignores him. He takes off his shoes and his shirt as well, arms crossed in front of his chest – Minho wants to pin them to his sides to get a better view of the milky skin beneath.

„Are you mad?“

Newt still doesn’t answer and slowly Minho makes his way over to him, charming grin on his plump lips. The water drips from his shorts, silky, black hair flat against his forehead and white shirt clinging to his chest tightly – he notices the shy glance Newt is giving him.

„There is no way I’ll just let you sulk like that the whole time.“

And Newt is just about to say: „I’m not sulking–“ when suddenly he cuts himself off mid sentence with a surprised yelp. Minho’s arms are wrapped around his middle when he all at once lifts the blond up, making him gasp and wriggle.

„Minho, I swear–“

The Asian male laughs, toes only slightly peaking over the grassy rim of the lake. „What do you swear, Newt?“ he asks teasingly and the blond fidgets inside his arms anew.

„I swear if you’ll throw me inside there again I’ll find a way to hurt you in your sleep.“

„I really don’t think it’s fair to you to look like an angel when you’re actually a satan’s child.“

Newt whines. „Minho.“

„Oh, come on,“ Minho says in return, „How can you stand in front of a lake and not feel the desire to jump in?“

„I just prefer to decide when I want to jump in myself, you know.“

„Too bad, we’re going right now.“

And again there is a splash when Minho jumps inside the cold water of the lake with his arms tightly wound around Newt’s middle. The yelps drown underneath the water level and after the first gasping inhale satisfies the blond’s lungs Minho feels his chest getting hit another time that day, but it’s weaker and more forgiving than before.

Minho’s hands barely stay by his sides, because whenever he gets the chance he places them on Newt’s body – no matter if above the water’s surface or beneath. Sometimes it makes Newt’s face flush – mostly when Minho’s fingertips ghost above his ass, pressing firmly when the other tries to leave – and sometimes they make a set of giggles fall from his red lips. Minho absolutely loves the affect he has on Newt.

 

They stay by the lake until thin coats of goosebumps cover their arms and the sun puts on a cloak of orange colour. More and more fireflies pop up between the thicket of the forest, dancing between the green and presenting a waltz fitting July’s evening ballad.

They pick up their piles of clothes before leaving. The forest’s ground is dirty and unpleasent, but they pay it no mind. Mud sticks to their heels and gushes of wind wrap up their half naked, dripping bodies in thin layers, making them walk a little bit faster.

It’s peaceful, it’s light and it brings their minds to ease. Minho’s fingers are soon interlaced with Newt’s, only letting go when the old, creaky wooden door to the shack protests to open – Minho presses firmly, huffing when it finally opens and not even trying to hide the flushed tips of his ears when Newt giggles lightly next to him.

And when they dump their clothes on the kitchen floor, ignoring the mess because they’re way too distracted by eachother’s lips, all the giggles die down and they’re alone. It is only them – in the midst of terribly painted cupboards and the constant dripping of the leaky water tap. It is only them – in Brenda’s uncle’s summer cottage, in an onrush of innocent and pure love.

Minho’s fingers curl around the back of Newt’s thighs, pulling him closer and pressing him into the edge of the kitchen counter. There is a muffled hum in return, fingers clinging to his shoulders and digging into his flesh.

„Let me–“ he gulps, Newt’s beady eyes on him and causing catastrophes in the world of his mind, „Let us make love, baby.“

And for a second Minho’s breath vanishes in thin air, but then Newt’s lips pull into a smile and it’s so breathtaking and glorious and when the blond kisses him again he is simply at a loss for words.

Newt’s palms cup his face and pull him in, neck craning in return and butterflies rumaging in the pit of his stomach. He is lead out of the kitchen, slender fingers caressing the tip of his chin and tugging lightly at the soft cotton of his briefs, catching his thoughts in a hurricane. He follows the blond up the stairs to the bedroom, fingertips gracing the smooth skin of Newt’s hips as their lips stay attached and the wood creaks beneath their steps.

Minho suppresses a hum when Newt’s tongue meets his, bumping into eachother and creating friction – hot, pleasant friction. He grips the boy’s waist a little bit stronger then, pressing the slender body against the door as soon as it falls shut behind them. Their bodies are still slightly cold from the lake and their hair damp from the freshwater.

 

„I’m not sure if Jorge wants to know about this.“ Newt suddenly murmures and the breathy chuckle that escapes his lips sends Minho’s heart up.

He presses a chaste kiss to the cherry lips. „Brenda won’t tell him.“ he says and now his lips are on Newt’s neck, a row of butterlfy kisses making him squirm.

Minho has Newt exactly where he wanted him for so long – calm and comfortable under his palms.

He turns his body around, the blond giggling surprised and finally landing on the bed with a loud thud, its sheets like cotton candy beneath his weight. Minho climbs on top. His knees dig into the free space between Newt’s legs, palms holding him up and caving the blond’s head in.

For a moment he just watches Newt, let’s his gaze linger on the tip of his nose, the curve of his lips. His breathing is shallow, but so is Newt’s.

„You drive me crazy.“ it’s only a whisper, like a hush passing before their eyes, running and sprinting to escape – but Newt catches it before it vanishes in the mellow trail of the sinking sun.

His eyes are bright, Minho doesn’t miss the sun when it’s gone. „I do?“ he asks and his indexfinger runs along Minho’s lower lip gently.

„You do.“ and Minho lets the other draw light lines on his face - the fingertip ghosting over his left cheekbone, running along his right eyebrow, repeating the same on the bridge of his nose and tapping his chin eventually.

And when Newt looks at him, Minho is already looking.

„Everyday,“ Newt speaks up, but for a brief moment he’s silent afterwards before he starts anew, „Everyday I ask myself if I actually deserve you.“

Minho’s throat goes dry. He didn’t expect this – Newt’s words whirr inside his head like the pollen behind the windows‘ glasses. He didn’t expect the question he asks himself each time Newt laughs, each time Newt just looks at him to fall off Newt’s lips before it could fall off his instead.

Minho takes the blond’s hand into his, the fingertip that rested on his chin gone. „You will always deserve better than me.“ and then he kisses Newt’s knuckles, lips loving each one.

„How is that possible when you’re already the best?“

 

Newt makes Minho feel powerful. Newt makes Minho feel so incredibly powerful, so full of might and strength. One kiss and Minho feels the will to climb mountains, the possibility to cross rivers and run a thousand miles. Blood is rushing so fast through his veins each time Newt touches his skin and each time it lifts him up. It’s like ecstasy pushing him forward and he moves, moves quick as if Newt stands by the finish line.

 

And when he presses his lips onto Newt’s there is this flame erupting inside of him, passion burning beneath his skin and keeping him jittery, animated, fully willing to embrace everything unexpected.

Newt’s tongue tastes of sugar and summer, addicting in a way it lets Minho forget about any side effects. He catches the blond’s lower lip between his teeth and bites down gently, receiving a soft whimmer in return.

Suddenly the temperature around them seems to raise, clothing both of them in heat. Minho’s fingers interlace with Newt’s, pinning him down and taking his control. Their bare chests press together firmly and when Minho’s hips meet Newt’s, he is fast to catch the soft gasp leaving the blond’s lips with his own.

The blond wriggles beneath him. Minho moves his lips to his ear, kissing the shell before trailing down Newt’s neck, sucking and biting close to his jaw. The whimpers that are tossed blindly into the room send jolts to Minho’s painfully growing erection, making his head cry for a release and his guts fill with boiling heat.

His hands are still weighing down Newt’s when he starts placing open mouthed kisses on the boy’s chest instead, hot breath tickling the naked skin.

Newt moans. „Min–“ it’s helpless, it’s needy – it’s fucking heavenly.

And then their fingers drift apart – Minho’s groping Newt’s hips while his tongue runs along his belly button and Newt’s clinging to the other’s short, black hair, searching for an anchor to keep himself from tossing and turning.

Minho’s mouth comes to a halt, lips lingering on Newt’s abdomen, inches apart from the waistband of his boxers, when he looks up through his eyelashes.

„May I?“ It’s different to the time he asked Newt that question in favor of taking him home.

He sees the blond swallow. „You may.“ But different is good – different is perfect.

He peels off his briefs, the black cotton smooth on his palms, but not nearly as smooth as the hot skin beneath. The piece of clothing is tossed to the side of the bed, laying limply on the wooden floor. Newt flushes crimson, cheeks burning and lips in a straight line.

And Minho really didn’t mean to, but he gulps. His gaze is on Newt’s lower body, erection flat against his stomach and it’s really nothing wrong with that, but–

„Can you please stop looking at me like that?“ Newt squirms uncomfortably.

Minho averts his eyes immediately. He doesn’t want to – Newt is beautiful, each bit of him – but he does. „I’m sorry, I just–“

„What is it?“ Newt asks, eyes fearfull when Minho stays silent for a moment, gaze shy when it meets Newt’s.

„I don’t really–“ he swallows thickly, heart racing and the oxygen hard and heavy inside his lungs, „I’ve never done this before, I–“

Newt’s smile then is softer than each summer drizzle, makes his fingertips prickle and stomach churn.

„It’s alright,“ he says, „I’ll help you.“

And the blond’s voice is husky, reminds Minho of seething oil – hot, fiery. And it makes him feel so lightheaded, takes his doubts, because they are simply not needed when he is with the blond.

Newt sits up then, hands supporting his weight as he presses a loving kiss to Minho’s lips. It lingers only shortly and in a blissful second it’s over. It’s almost pathetic how Minho chases after the other’s lips as soon as they’re gone.

„First of all we should switch positions.“ he says and Minho’s eyes go wide, making the other chuckle and kiss him once more. „Relax, Min. All you gotta do is lean back and let me do the rest.“

And when he sits with his back against the headboard, Newt teasingly removing his boxers, he can’t help but feel like a virgin all over again. It’s new, it’s exciting and it just won’t give his racing heart any rest.

„You probably don’t have any condoms with you, do you?“ Newt asks and it’s almost ridiculous how innocent he looks in such situation – with eyes wide and doelike, making Minho almost forget about the way the angels start blushing when they see his delicate hands so close to Minho’s throbbing erection.

Minho feels his face heat up. „Brenda, she–“ he swallows, „she gave one to me,“ then he clears his throat, „yesterday.“

The blond raises his eyebrows. „And where is it now?“ he asks.

And as soon as Minho mutters: „In the front pocket of my bag.“ Newt is gone, leaving Minho sitting fully exposed in the small bed. He feels the heat creeping down his neck when his gaze lingers on Newt’s ass as he hurries out of the room.

It’s awkward – Minho feels so awkward, but he doesn’t regret going this step with Newt. He can’t – he knows when the blond returns, sheepish smile on his lips, cheeks tinted pink, and sits on Minho’s hips.

Minho nearly loses his mind, body fully back in a suppressing mode of need and want, as he grips Newt’s hips shakily.

„Do you want me to put it on?“ he hears the blond ask then and all he can manage is a weak nod along with a flustered stare. Newt’s delicate hands on his erection set off a low grumble in the back of his throat and he presses more tightly into the soft flesh of his hips in return. The condom feels tight, but his thoughts find no time to focus on it – all he can think about is Newt’s skin against his, his palms on his chest and his thighs hot against his middle.

„You’re suddenly so quiet.“ Newt smiles – Minho’s gaze darts to his eyes.

And he smiles back at the blond, neck craning to receive a kiss. „Just admiring you in peace.“ And he does receive a kiss.

Newt’s lips linger on his for a few seconds before it gets silent. Again there are the blond’s fingertips on his face, brushing away a streak of jet black hair – Minho can’t avert his eyes.

„You sure you wanna do this?“ Newt asks then and Minho hums, answering: „As long as you are too.“

And it’s all he needs to say, because in the next second Newt tells him to relax and the sensation that comes next is sinful.

The blond is still sitting above Minho, hitched breathing caught inside his throat as he slowly lowers himself on Minho’s fully hard erection. A low groan escapes Minho, hands gripping Newt’s hips tightly – holding on to him, afraid he might lose his mind.

Newt feels hot and tight around his throbbing erection – it feels so sinful, the angels above must shed a thousand tears as Newt’s body closes around Minho. So sinful, but Minho is so sure the boy sitting on his hips is an angel of his own, with creamy skin calling out to be bitten and lips begging to be ravished until they’re red and puffy.

„Oh god–“ he lets out a gasp eventually, still trying to get used to the tight, fiery feeling in his lower region.

Newt however has his teeth gritted and when he hisses lightly, Minho looks up. The painful expression on the others face makes him loosen his grip around his hips, palms now softly rubbing the sides instead.

„Are you okay?“ he asks worriedly, „We can stop, you know. It’s okay. I don’t want you hurt–“

Newt bites his lower lip – it’s painfully arrousing. „It’s okay.“ he mumures, „It’s just been some time, but I’ll get used to it.“

Minho’s palms caress Newt’s body gently in return, reassuring and encouraging. They drift from his shoulders to his chest, from his chest to his sides until they rest on the bump of his ass.

„Go slow, baby.“ he mumbles.

And then Newt begins – he begins to move and he moves up and down and although it’s unsteady and slow in the beginning, Minho still feels his insides burn. He stiffles the groans and growls, but they end up escaping anyway.

The blond moving on him, rolling his hips and crashing down into the pool of friction over and over again has Minho completely breathless.

„Fuck,“ he curses when all of sudden Newt begins to pick the pace up, feeling less and less uncomfortable – bouncing up and down Minho’s groin, „You feel so good – so fucking good, baby.“

It’s intimitate, feels like flames are suddenly encircling them. Newt’s hands are on Minho’s shoulders, nails digging into the skin as he keeps himself steady, repeatedly moving in waves. Minho’s hands are squeezing the other’s bum, letting Newt work wonders as he melts and trembles beneath him.

„Minho–“ it’s a sharp moan and it hovers above the Asian’s head like a cloud of dust. He wants to hear it again – wants to hear his name fall off those cherry lips, wants to kiss it off them, wants to suck and bite until it’s breaking on the blond’s tongue into miserable pieces.

His back is against the headboard, the wood creaking each time Newt moves forward in the slightest way. „Say,“ he groans, palms now rubbing the blond’s trembling thighs, „Say my name again.“

And when Minho thrusts once more into Newt’s hot body, the blond moans – voice quivering and eyes shut. „Minho.“ he drawles the word until his breathing hitches and Minho catches it with his lips.

„Again.“ he orders, teeth gracing Newt’s neck and hands kneading the soft flesh of his thighs. He sucks harshly beneath the other’s jawline, satisfied with the way he starts to whimper helplessly.

Newt wraps his arms around Minho’s neck, pulling on the short hairs of his nape as he moans his name again and again, getting audibly louder as soon as Minho starts to thrust his hips on his own, meeting Newt’s midway. He bites down on the curve of the blond’s neck, receiving another sinful mewl.

„So good, baby.“ he rasps, pressing himself more into the other. Their chests are flat against eachother, Newt’s flushed face in the crook of Minho’s neck, and they are so close not even a piece of paper would fit inbetween. „So beautiful.“

Another thrust and Newt throws his head back, groaning. Minho watches the pleasure paint his features – soft lines on clear canvas. There is a slight trail of sweat gleaming on his skin, the arriving stars kissing his shoulder blades, his face and his back, blond locks sticking to his forehead.

Minho falls in love all over again.

„Min, I–“ another moan swallows Newt’s words and the row of pitched groans becomes longer. „I–“

„Come on, baby,“ Minho coos, free hand gripping Newt’s twitching erection, „Let go.“

And Newt does – after a few hard strokes and thrusts he lets go, cum wetting Minho’s hand and chest. The scream that escapes his throat and the arch of his back under Minho’s fingertips is so incredibly satisfying, Minho follows shortly after, filling up the condom instead.

 

It takes a moment for them to catch their breath, chests heaving. Newt’s forehead is leaning against Minho’s right shoulder, exhales tickling him and arms loosely hanging now.

Minho is hugging Newt’s limp body. He presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

„Hey,“ it’s gentle and the blond hums tiredly in return, „Come on, Newt. Let’s get cleaned up.“

When their bodies disconnect fully Newt is blushing, red tinting his cheeks as he sits in between the heated cotton sheets. It takes all his might for Minho not to kiss him senseless right then and there. Instead he leaves for the bathroom, throwing away the used condom and washing off the milky cum on his skin.

He puts on fresh briefs, lost in his thoughts and the prickling sensation of Newt’s touches still tingling on his skin. His body is still blaring with ecstasy, heart still in his throat and veins caught on fire. He almost feels caught inside a fantasy – all the dreams with the moon watching him finally fullfilled, in nights with breathy moans scraping along his throat and droplets of sweat covering the pathetic longing for Newt’s body on top of his.

 

It’s quiet now. Minho peaks into the small bedroom again, tender smile dancing on his plump lips when he catches sight of the mop of blond hair in between the creamy sheets. Newt lays buried beneath the soft cotton and carefully Minho climbs on top of him.

„Newt,“ he whispers, making the other hide deeper in the cocoon of blankets – eyes closed shut and hair messy, „Baby, you’re all sweaty.“

The response is muffled. „Am not.“

Minho chuckles gently. „Jorge will notice if you fall asleep all sweaty in his bed.“ he teases playfully, but Newt only seems to nustle his nose deeper into the soft sheets.

„Shut up.“

He chuckles again, this time trying to pry off the blanket off Newt’s hidden face. It is useless – the blond’s grip is too tight.

„Come on, Newt.“ he mumbles.

But– „I don’t wanna go, Minho.“

And his heart misses a beat. Suddenly he doesn’t find the power to chuckle at the blond’s words anymore. He knows sorrow when he hears it inside Newt’s voice – it always ends up tieing up his throat, making him sound choked up, breaking Minho’s heart into tiny pieces that only end up ripping open his skin into fresh, bleeding wounds.

„Newt,“ he whispers, „Come on.“

He tugs weakly at the covers separating him from the other boy and then finally Newt lets go of them, letting Minho reveal him. His eyes are watery and Minho hates the way they cry without shedding even one tear.

He doesn’t waste another moment and crawls under the covers. His palms rub gently over the smooth skin of Newt’s back, fingertips gracing the outline of his spine, sharp beneath his touch. And he holds Newt, he holds him steady and safe – holds him, because he knows even though Newt needs it he wouldn’t ask for it.

„I don’t wanna go, Min.“ he hears it again – hears it drop off Newt’s lips and hears the hungry swallow of the darkness eating it up as soon as it is released.

His nose nustles blond hair, still slightly damp. „One day you won’t have to go anymore.“

One day this would be over, right? Newt won’t have to take the plane to carry him across the ocean, away from Minho’s arms, Minho’s embrace, anymore, right?

 

„I love you.“

„And I love you.“

 

One day all of this will find an end, isn’t that right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **너와** **멀어지는** **게** **난** **두려워**  
>  _neowa meoreojineun ge nan duryeoweo  
>  I'm scared of getting far away from you_

 

And then days pass – weeks, and suddenly months. The distance between them seems to stretch each day, mocking them and their love, testing them. Sometimes Minho swears he can feel his fingertips itch with longing to touch the blond’s thighs, to massage his shoulder blades and press softly into the dimples of his back. Seeing him on his laptop screen is not enough anymore, hearing his voice over the loudspeaker of his phone doesn’t give him quite the feeling Newt is there beside him when he closes his eyes. It’s not enough.

And sometimes they fight, because they are both tired and the money just isn’t enough as well and love just shouldn’t be this exhausting. All these delusions of happiness simply aren’t enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **우리** **이대로** **자연스러운** **이별이** **될까** **봐**  
>  _uri idaero jayeonseureoun ibyeori doelgga bwa  
>  What if we naturally break up? Just one more day_
> 
> **하루만** **한** **시간만** **딱** **일** **분만**  
>  _haruman han siganman ddak il bunman  
>  just one more hour, just one more minute_

 

In October Minho notices something is terribly off and he notices the redness of Newt’s eyes he tries to excuse with a lack of sleep.

In October Minho is afraid and in November he knows why.

It’s the middle of the month, sleet instead of snowflakes falling from the sky. It’s the middle of the day, half empty cup of black coffee on the kitchen table and an agonizing silence hovering above Minho’s head.

„We need to talk.“ Newt had said and in that moment Minho halted – this right there was what he had been afraid of all along.

He puts the phone on speaker, folds his hands, afraid he might crash something if Newt goes on like this.

„About what?“ he asks – as if he didn’t already know.

Newt’s answer is shaky and almost defeaning. „About us – I,“ he stops abruptly, „I can’t do this anymore.“

Minho is certain his heart didn’t just break – it crashed and it burned down right in that moment. And yet he still asks the other: „What do you mean?“ and it’s predictable for the next answer to destroy him further.

Newt murmures: „I am going insane. I can’t continue all of this – the phone calls, video chats. Not if it will go on like this.“

And Minho hits his breaking point, the nerves ticking inside of him and setting of the bomb. He bursts.

„Are you being fucking serious right now?“ he yells – it’s so loud and it bounces off the bald walls of his kitchen, jumping right back at him and gnawing at his ears. „You told me you fucking loved me!“

Minho hears a frustrated sob rip through the line and it affects his heart – it affects the miserable pieces, but he tells himself it doesn’t.

„I do love you!“ Newt yells right back, „But I’m breaking, Min. I’m breaking and I’m collapsing right on top of you!“

Minho sees red. „How come this is all about you every goddamn time?“ it’s reproachful, but he doesn’t notice – there is nothing but the pounding inside his ears and blood rushing through his veins, „What about me breaking, Newt? Do you even know what this does to me? Have you for once thought about me?“

„Are you trying to tell me you want to go on like this?“ the screams of the blond sting inside the back of his skull, making his head hurt, „Do you really want to give yourself to this world of make-believe? This was destined to fall apart from the start!“

„Because that’s what you made it!“ Minho yells at Newt – he raises his words, violently and frightening, „You were the one to make it fall apart! I would’ve given you everything.“

Newt huffs from the other end of the line. „It’s so bloody typical for you to blame everyone but yourself.“ he hisses – it sounds unfamiliar, „I never wanted anything else from you but understanding.“

The roar of laughter that slips off Minho’s lips is cold, it’s taunting and makes the blond wheeze. „‚Understanding‘,“ he mocks, spitting, „I  was there for you so many times!“

„Stop trying to find reasons to hold against me!“ it’s the final scream – Minho can feel it, „All I’m telling you is that I can’t continue like this. I don’t want to be separated from you all the time and all I want is you to understand that. I want you to understand, Minho. I’m not like you.“

And Minho is about to shout – Don’t you think I need you, too? Don’t you hear my heart bursting when you say this? Don’t you feel bad for crushing me like this? Don’t you appreciate my heart, my heart I offered you? – but the line goes dead and all he can do is stare at the black screen of his phone.

All of their phone calls end with black screens, but this time Minho is so sure it’s gonna be their last.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **잠깐** **멈춰봐** **비가** **오잖아**  
>  _jamggan meomchweobwa biga ojanha  
>  Stop for a moment, it's raining_
> 
> **바람** **불잖아** **지금** **가면** **위험하니까**  
>  _baram buljanha jigeum gamyeon wiheomhanigga  
>  The wind is blowing, it'll be dangerous if you go now_
> 
> _Hey Mr. Airplane_

 

Minho talks to no-one about it. He lets the days go by, lets them drown in dirty snow and grey clouds and ignores the pounding of the last pieces of his heart, thumping weakly and cutting him from inside.

He never knew love could be so deadly – so painful and harmful. He despises its four letters, despises its taste on his tongue and its voice inside his mind. Minho doesn’t want to know about love anymore – he’d rather have it leave his bones, abandoning him hollow, spitting on the shell of his pitiful self and kick his sides to watch the blood flow out of all the crack it had torn open.

 

And when Cristmas dances on the illuminated balconies of the streets, he hears love packing its bags, throwing the door shut behind it and causing a blizard of feelings.

Minho is cold – when the postman scurries over the pavement he tells himself to look away. There is no present for him, but he isn’t surprised about that anyway.

His mother’s cooking doesn’t taste as good as it did before and the candles on the poorly decorated table awake the wish of warmth in him.

But Minho is cold.

 

And when on New Year’s Eve Winston, Thomas and Brenda shout the countdown from the top of their lungs, sparkling wine inside their hands, Minho lets the seconds run past – love watching him from the corner of the living room.

The laughter is joyful and warm, the heaters on maximum – but Minho is cold. Minho is so fucking cold and it’s all Newt’s fault.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **잠깐** **멈춰봐** **시간** **많잖아**  
>  _jamggan meomchweobwa sigan manhjanha  
>  Stop for a moment, there's a lot of time_
> 
> **내일도** **있잖아** **그녀를** **내려줘**  
>  _naeildo itjanha geunyeoreul naeryeojweo  
>  There's tomorrow too so let her come off_
> 
> **아님** **나도** **태워줘**  
>  _anim nado taeweojweo  
>  or let me get on_

 

In spring the anger becomes less, time to time more drowned by the feeling of misery.

Minho starts missing Newt, starts blaming himself. At night he allows himself to cry, gives in to the tight feeling of his chest and lets the sobs rip apart all dignity he had saved. He thinks about calling Newt – just calling, doing no harm and hoping for his voice to sound as soft as it has always sounded. He wants to awake his feelings anew, wants to hold on to the joyful moments of his memories, wants to tear off the thin curtains of illusions that wrapped themselves tightly around their past.

They hadn’t been unhappy, but distance was testing their love, testing how long they could keep going before the wires would tear apart and they would fall into the wild ocean between them. The distance was testing how far their love could go and it seems like it grew weaker with each step.

 

And love clings onto his back when he helps Brenda to make more room inside her flat on the 7th of March. It wails behind him, crying right beside his ear when she goes on and on about how excited she is to have Teresa finally live with her, try their best, see how far they would come.

He is happy for her – no, really, he is – but love just won’t stop screaming at him that this could’ve been him and Newt instead.

However, it isn’t and love is being a bitch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **하루만** **한** **시간만** **딱** **일** **분만**  
>  _haruman han siganman ddak il bunman  
>  Just one more day, just one more hour, just one more minute_

 

„Happy birthday, man!“ Thomas is screaming loudly and next there are three bodies crushing his. There is the tightness inside his chest again, missing a fourth body.

Winstons grins at him – Minho pretends he doesn’t see the pity when he catches sight of the shirt he is wearing – the red one, Newt’s shirt, „You somehow manage to get uglier each year.“ he jokes and Minho only huffs.

They know. They know about Newt and Minho appreciates it that they don’t mention it – although he likes to believe the pity on their faces is almost worse.

 

And the club Brenda chose makes his skin crawl. The music is too loud and the alcohol makes him want to vomit. Finally he is 21 but he can’t even bring himself to care – all he does is accept one drink after the other. It makes his throat burn and he notices his three friends are trying their hardest to have fun. They force laughes on their faces, turning their heads when Minho doesn’t bring up the strength to laugh back.

He’s being cruel – that’s what love tells him when he sits all by himself inside his too empty apartment by night. The sun is gone – he pretends it will make him forget about the mess.

Minho crashes a few mugs, a few plates. Sharp pieces of porcelain scatter to the ground and even though they cut his palms, it is almost satisfying to watch them break. For only a moment Minho allows himself to forget about his own broken heart and that’s when love wraps its arms around him from behind.

He cries, tears slipping, and he curses – so loud, it’s all so loud.

It’s full moon, but Minho can’t help but feel incomplete. There is dried blood on his hands when he falls asleep inside Newt’s red T-shirt, it feeling even more tight than it did in the beginning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **한마디만** **하게**  
>  _hanmadiman hage  
>  just wanna say one thing_
> 
> _Hey Mr. Airplane_
> 
> **잠깐** **멈춰봐**  
>  _jamggan meomchweobwa  
>  Stop for a moment_

 

And when Sunday reveals itself Minho awakes – sunshine burning inside his eyes and the shrieking ringing of his door bell making him curse. His head hurts and he turns over inside his bed, pulling the sheets tighter around himself. He lets the warmth swallow him whole again, his shoulders slackening as he hums in contentment–

Scratch that. The door bell rings again – and again, and again and Minho feels like it goes on for an eternity.

He jumps to his feet, furious and ready to throw a fit at whoever decided it was a good idea to turn up on his doorstep before even the birds decide to open their fucking mouths. His mind is going in circles and he feels the need to spit out each bit of alcohol he consumed the night before. His breath tastes of gin and his hair feels greasy against his skull.

His door bell cries out for another time and the pressure he applies to throw open the door makes the vein on his forehead protrude slightly in anger. He is about to yell at the person in front of him – he is about to scream from the top of his lungs, but he stops and his face falls.

„The flight was cancelled because of a storm. I hope you take chocolate as an excuse?“

And all at once love found its way into his heart again. Minho doesn’t envy the moon for being full anymore – he doesn’t have to anymore. Not when the sun is so much better.


End file.
